


In Sickness and in Health

by Gilda



Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: F/M, Fever, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Illness, Love, Recovery, Romance, Self-Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-06-06 17:39:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 37,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6763720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gilda/pseuds/Gilda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard falls ill with a bad bout of fever *again*. Camille is determined not to let him rot in his shack while he's sick...</p><p>~ Originally inspired by Series 1, ep. 6, but set a couple of weeks after Series 2. Series 3 ff. don't exist, this is AU :-) ~</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. High Temperatures

**Author's Note:**

> Mistakes are my own, I have no beta-reader for this. Hopefully there won't be too many glaring mistakes. I apologise beforehand for inconsistencies regarding spelling, tenses & grammar - I do my best, but I'm not a native speaker, so... please bear with me. 
> 
> I hope you'll like this story. As per usual, I try to update regularly - and feedback is welcome!
> 
> I had the idea for this story when I watched Series 1, ep. 6 once again :-)

This heat was killing him. Richard Poole reached for the water bottle on his desk, only to realise that it was empty again. He sighed, got up and went to the fridge to retrieve a new one. His steps were a bit wobbly. He frowned and tried to focus. Ah, there was the fridge handle – something to hold on to!

He opened the door and was surprised to see that there only was one more bottle inside – when he had entered the station in the morning, there had been eight full bottles in the fridge, each of them holding an entire litre.

Surely, he hadn’t drunk them all by himself? No, obviously not – he saw a water bottle on each of his subordinates’ desk. That made three already. He glanced into the bin beside his desk and counted four empty bottles, all neatly crushed to a fraction of their original size so they wouldn’t fill up the bin… He couldn’t remember if he had drunk all of them. He knew he had had at least two litres of water already, plus a litre of tea during his lunch break, plus a mug of tea and a glass of fruit juice in the morning before work… Good grief. What was wrong with him that he was so thirsty?

Fidel, the young sergeant, noticed Richard’s puzzled face and said “Er… Chief… Camille and Dwayne have already set off to buy more water. They should be back soon, so feel free to take that bottle!”

Richard had some trouble processing Fidel’s words. He had noticed all day long that he was a bit slow today – he was tired, and he had woken up with a raging headache that had got only slightly better during the day, so maybe that was the reason. He took out the last bottle of water from the fridge and turned around, opening his mouth and trying to make a reply.

But whatever he had wanted to say, it never came out. In slow motion, he dropped the bottle, then – much to Fidel’s horror – he toppled over and fell flat on the floor.

****************

Camille and Dwayne were sitting on a bench in front of the little supermarket just at the edge of Honoré, each of them enjoying a dish of icecream. Camille had gone for chocolate, and Dwayne had chosen rum-raisins, and they were chatting away in between licking.

“This icecream is lovely! Just what I needed… Oh, I’m so glad we could slip away from the station,” Camille sighed. “Is it only me, or is the Chief particularly prickly and annoying today?” she asked. Dwayne sniggered, sucked a raisin from his icecream and said “No, it’s not only you. He’s been irritable for a few days already, but today he’s just plain maddening. He’s hard to please at the best of times, but today it’s beyond belief. What a fusspot he is…”

Camille licked on her icecream and said thoughtfully “I thought he had become better after his return from London a few weeks ago. For a while he wasn’t as uptight and nitpicky as he used to be, but it seems he has fallen back into the same old behaviour patterns.”

She sighed again and added “And I had thought he’d come to his senses and abandon his suits after his luggage had got lost and the Commissioner had recommended a few stores where he could get lightweight clothing… remember how good he looked with those dark slacks and the sage green shirt he wore one day? And short sleeves – blimey. I thought he’d love that airy and loose feeling, but no… as soon as his suitcase was back, he went back to those awful woollen suits…”

Dwayne shot her a sideways glance and pretended not to notice the hint of wistfulness in her voice. He knew that Camille had a ‘thing’ for the Chief, but as far as he could see it, she made one prominent mistake – she wanted him to change for her. Well, that wouldn’t happen. She’d either have to take him the way he was, or she’d have to let him go. People didn’t change fundamentally – neither for others, nor in general - and the Chief was a particularly tough nut to crack – even small changes were a big deal for him.

Dwayne couldn’t quite see why Camille would want to be with someone who was a crotchety control freak. The Chief was nice enough, but he was a stickler and an awkward loner, somewhat suspicious of people, and Camille was sociable and gregarious…

But perhaps the fact that he was such a tough nut to crack just made him all the more interesting for Camille. She wasn’t used to men resisting her charms, and Richard’s demonstrative lack of interest clearly challenged her. She was attractive, and men flocked around her, trying to win her affection, but she just wasn’t interested. She would go out with them for an evening, have a drink, have a dance, maybe have a harmless flirt, but nobody ever got beyond that point with her.

She hadn’t had a serious boyfriend since she had joined the team over two years ago. Her mother had tried to set her up with men she found suitable, but given up on it eventually after Camille had declared she was not going to let anybody else run her life, and that included her mother.

Catherine hadn’t been happy, and Dwayne knew that she and Camille had been cross with each other for a while, but Camille had not given in. After the Erzulie festival earlier this year, she had straight out refused to have more blind dates. She had said she was tired of riding the merry-go-round, and if she wanted to become a spinster, it was her business, and hers alone… Shortly after that, she had bought a house, got it renovated and eventually moved out of her mother’s place where she had been staying ever since she had started working on Saint Marie.

In an attempt to distract her, he asked “So, Camille, what’s going to happen this weekend?” It was Thursday already, so it was realistic to make plans for the forthcoming days and evenings.

“Oh, I’m not sure,” Camille responded lazily. “You know that I’ll be on call, but with some luck, it will be a quiet weekend. I might have to help Maman in the bar, but I hope I can go out and see a friend. I’ve been a bit tired lately, so I won’t go too wild this weekend. Not that I had planned anything like that… Might go to the beach for a swim some time or maybe for a run. And of course, there’ll be the usual chores – but I guess that was not what you wanted to know. When do you ever do your laundry, Dwayne? You always seem to be on the go, and yet you never run out of clean shirts…”

Dwayne chuckled and replied “Oh, I have lots of them, you know. I just wear one after another, and when I see I only have ten more left, I load the washer and get it all done in a weekend.”

“Including the ironing?” Camille asked incredulously, thinking of Dwayne’s fashionable and colourful cotton shirts.

Dwayne laughed and said with a twinkle in his eyes “Usually, I’m lucky, and someone else does the ironing for me…” Camille rolled her eyes – but she couldn’t help laughing. “Really, Dwayne.. Are you telling me that the ladies are queuing up so they can iron your shirts? How do you do that?”

“Well, it’s not like they don’t get anything for their efforts,” he defended himself with a smirk. Camille shook her head, amused and a little appalled at the same time.

Before she could ask what precisely Dwayne had planned for the weekend, her phone buzzed. She pulled it out of the pocket of her very short denim shorts and raised her eyebrows. “It’s Fidel,” she said, surprise in her voice. Dwayne sighed and asked “You can’t ignore it?” “Nah,” said Camille, “it might be something urgent after all, and we’re still on duty…”

She picked up the phone. “Yes, Fidel?”

Dwayne idly sucked at another raisin – hmmm, this icecream was delicious. Suddenly he startled as Camille moved abruptly to sit bolted upright and spat out “What?!?! Is he hurt? Did you call Dr Paulette already? Oh… I see. Where? Give me her number again…“ – she handed Dwayne her icecream, pulled out her notepad and jotted down a series of figures. “Right. We’ll pick her up. No problem. Thank you, Fidel. And don’t let him leave before we’re back - I know you can do it… Oh… too weak, you say? Goodness… Well, thanks, and see you then…”

She finished the call, took the icecream that Dwayne held out to her and gobbled up the rest of it. The older officer hat jumped up, sensing that something serious had happened. “The Chief has fainted,” she said grimly.

Dwayne sighed and said “Oh, again… he really shouldn’t wear those suits…” “Well, right – he shouldn’t. But this time it’s not only the heat that’s done him in,” Camille continued as she got up. “Fidel says he’s feverish, and he’s talking nonsense… Yeah, I know… it’s not his usual kind of nonsense, but more gibberish, as if he’s hallucinating… Apparently, it’s almost as bad as it was when you had that case with the diver, you know… when I was in Paris for IT training. So, he’s seriously ill. And I guess that explains why he has been so crabby today – he has been feeling poorly and didn’t want to admit it. Mulish dunderhead.”

They rushed to the Rover and got in. Camille started the car, stepped on the accelerator, reversed the vehicle and zoomed off. “Wait, Camille… this isn’t the way to the station…”

“Oh, I know. We’re going to the Chief’s shack first. I still have the spare key – you know how I fed his lizard when he was in London. I kept the key for emergencies – I mean, you never know. Always wanted to put it into the jar that we keep at the station, but well… it’s still here on my keyring. We’ll pack up a few necessities and then we’ll call Dr Paulette – she’s in the surgery, Dr Steve has taken the car to visit a patient on the other side of the island. It would take him over an hour to get back, and Dr Paulette said she was just about to close down the surgery when Fidel’s call reached her…”

Dwayne asked “So you think he’ll have to go to hospital?”

“No.” Camille turned right to go down to the beach where Richard’s shack was located. “It’s an infection, and while it’s cumbersome and annoying, it’s not life-threatening – they don’t have any space or time for people like that in hospital. You know as well as I do that they basically rely on families to take care of their sick people if it’s a fever or some other infection. I mean, as long as it’s not Dengue or Chikungunya – and that’s not very likely in his case. No, he’s not going to hospital, not if I can prevent it. Just think of the unfortunate nurses and doctors – he’d drive them crazy. No, that’s not going to happen…”

“Then why pack up his stuff?” Dwayne scratched his head now.

Camille said determinedly “He can’t stay by himself if he’s ill like that. When he had that fever nearly two years ago, he was left to his own devices, all alone in his shack, and I don’t want this to happen again. The shack is fine as long as you’re fit and healthy, but if you’re ill and need help, this is a nightmare.”

They arrived at the bungalow, and Camille was about to get off the car when Dwayne frowned and said “But Camille… that was what he had wanted… And I’m sure he’ll want to be left in peace and stay home this time, too… I mean, you can’t force him to go anywhere, can you…” Dwayne felt very uncomfortable at the idea of meddling with the Chief and his independence.

Camille turned to him and said between gritted teeth “He won’t get ‘forced’. He’ll just get no other option… I’ll persuade him, if necessary.” Dwayne raised his eybrows.

She went on “I know I can do that. Just wait and see.” She paused for a moment before she continued “You know, initially, I was only annoyed when I came back from Paris and heard from Maman that he had offended her by insulting her chicken soup, but once I had heard the rest of the story from her and the things you and Fidel said, I was aghast, and I felt incredibly guilty for not being around and doing my share. I should have been here, looking after him and helping you to solve the case instead of having fun in Paris. Just imagine the things that could have happened if he had fallen out of his bed or fainted on the way to the loo! He could have broken bones or killed himself. I’m not going to take any chances this time. And now come on.”

They entered the shack, and Camille retrieved a big folded nylon sac from her handbag, pulling out several drawers from a dresser and scanning the contents. “Here, Dwayne, take two - or better yet… three sets of underpants, socks and T-shirts, all his pyjamas, at least two short sleeved shirts, a pair of trousers and whatever else you think is necessary for a week… He might not need everything, but it’s better to be prepared. I’ll go and pick up his toothbrush, the shaver and all that…”

Dwayne did as she said and asked casually over his shoulder “So where are you going to bring him? Your mother's?” Camille snorted and shouted from the bathroom “I doubt she’d want to look after him. I might be able to convince her to sit with him for half an hour every once in a while, but after the chicken soup disaster, I don’t see her doing anything beyond that.” She stuck her head out of the bathroom door and added “And it wouldn’t be practical, anyway. Too noisy, and she won’t have time to take care of him. No, he’ll stay in my house.”

She met Dwayne’s stunned expression with a determined gaze and said “Yes, I know. Maman won’t like that, either. And it will probably start some chin-wagging in the neighbourhood. But it’s all going to be decent and respectable, and it’s all about how you present it. I’ll convince Maman to make a big song and dance about how ill he is, how he has no family around here, and how kind-hearted it is of me to take him in like this – and then everyone will sing the same song. And really, everybody knows that I have a guest room, and it’s not like anything improper could happen, anyway. He’s ill, for heaven’s sake. The only alternative would be staying here in his shack with him, and I’d rather be shot than do that under the given circumstances. There’s no bed or sofa here where I could sleep, it’s just one room, no air condition, no real kitchen and no other amenities… I’m ready and willing to look after him, but I’m not a saint, and as he has to get transported, anyway, we might as well bring him to my house where it’ll be much more comfortable for both of us.”

Dwayne looked around and said a little taken aback “Well, now that you put it like that… you’ve got a point. I had kind of forgotten about it… When Charlie Hulme lived here, it really was a run-down hovel, but the Chief has tidied it up and turned it into a home, so it’s sort of escaped my mind how primitive it really is.”

Camille nodded and said “I know what you mean. Charlie Hulme might have had his good sides, but he surely wasn’t a very tidy person. The Chief, on the other hand, might be a pain in the neck sometimes, but you can’t say he’s disorganised. Everything is tidy, prim and proper.”

On the way back to town, Dwayne called Dr Paulette, and they picked her up at her surgery.

Dwayne let her have the passenger seat in the front so she and Camille could talk – he retreated to the back seat and listened quietly.

Dr Paulette filled them in on what precisely Fidel had said and heaved a big sigh when she was finished. “I just hope he’ll have someone to look after him this time,” she said. “It didn’t feel right to leave him in his beach house like that back then. I was glad that your mother agreed to look after him everyday – but it still wasn’t as good as having someone around all the time. Or at least most of the time. At the same time, I don’t think it’s a good idea to take him to hospital…”

Camille explained her plan, and Dr Paulette exclaimed “That’s a brilliant idea, Camille – and no worries, if he tries to decline your ‘offer’, I’ll give him a piece of my mind. Provided he’ll be fit enough to object… I have my doubts that he’ll be able to say much for the first two days, anyway – and after that, it’ll be too late – and he’ll just have to stay put. You’ll only have to convince your mother that it’s a good idea… maybe you’ll bring up the Commissioner and how grateful he’ll be for you taking care of the Inspector?”

The two women in the front exchanged a conspiratorial glance, and Dwayne grinned silently on his box seat in the back. He was curious to see where this all would end… as far as he was concerned, he didn’t dare betting on anything here.


	2. Shiftings

When they arrived at the station, they were greeted by Fidel with considerable relief. He met them on the veranda, an expression of apprehension and concern on his face.

“I made him lie down on one of the beds in the cells for the moment,” he explained when Dr Paulette asked where the patient was. “I think he’s sleeping now – or at least he’s in a daze. He’s not unconscious any more, though. As I told you, he fainted – right over there,” – he pointed to the fridge – “as he was taking out another bottle of water. He has been extremely irritable all day long and very thirsty. I noticed when he got up that he seemed a bit unsteady on his feet, but I thought it was just one of his usual dizzy spells.”

“Wait a moment,” interrupted Dr Paulette. “You mean, he has fits of dizziness regularly?”

Fidel looked over to Camille who nodded slightly and then said a little hesitantly “Well, yes… he has fainted a few times here in the station already. Not recently, though. I think he just has a hard time with the heat here… he’s not cut out for our climate, obviously, and then he insists on wearing his suits, so that isn’t helpful. Usually, he’s on his feet again after a few minutes, but this time, it was harder to bring him back, and it’s obvious that he’s feverish as he’s – er – talking – er… forgive me, but it’s plain rubbish he’s talking, and I think he’s mistaken me for the janitor of his old school initially. He recognised me eventually, but it was a bit scary at first.”

Dr Paulette raised her eyebrows and said “He’s never mentioned it… I mean, he has been to the surgery to get all his necessary vaccinations renewed and updated a while ago, and I asked him how he has adjusted to the climate here. He said it’s difficult for him, but when I asked about fainting or bouts of vertigo, he answered in the negative.”

Dwayne – who had busied himself with storing away the water they had purchased in the supermarket - let out an exasperated sigh, and Fidel hastened to explain “Dr Paulette, we all know he’s not great when it comes to admitting… what he considers… er… deficits or weakness. He always claims he’ll be alright, and he wants to deal with things by himself. Accepting help is not on his agenda. If he hadn’t been so obviously beside himself, he would have insisted on trying to convince me that he’s fine…”

Dr Paulette noticed a hint of despair in Fidel’s voice now. She patted his arm and said “Well, I’ll have a look at him now, and then we’ll see what we can do. I’m sure he’ll be fine again in a few days.”

Fidel ushered her in the cell section, and she sat down on the bed where Richard was sleeping now. Fidel had removed his shirt and covered him in wet towels that he had wrapped around his torso so he got cooler, as Dr Paulette acknowledged with a benevolent nod.

His sleep was restless - he was mumbling incoherent half-sentences, his hair was sticky, and his hands were moving nervously. Camille was shocked – he had appeared to be totally intact when she had left him in the station two hours ago. Well, irritable, hot and a little tired – but overall healthy. And now he seemed so weak and wretched… Her heart went out to him, and she had to retreat a little so the others didn’t see the tears welling up in her eyes. He could be such a pain, but seeing him like this was devastating.

The doctor, however, didn’t seem too alarmed. “Well, that’s about as bad as he was when I saw him two years ago. I’ll have to draw blood…” she opened her bag and took out a syringe and a foil-wrapped swab – “and examine it, but I think I can exclude that it’s Dengue or Chikungunya. The symptoms could indicate Dengue, but while his temperature definitely is high, it’s not high enough for Dengue, I think, and Chikungunya doesn’t seem likely because he doesn’t have the usual symptoms, like rashes, extreme tenderness of the skin, or conjunctivitis. It’s not heat stroke, either, so he doesn’t have to be constantly monitored, but he shouldn’t be left alone, in any case.”

Camille swallowed hard and asked “You think I should call my mother?”

“Absolutely, yes,” Dr Paulette said as she unhurriedly put on her rubber gloves, opened the foil around the swab and then jabbed the syringe into Richard’s arm. He stirred, but didn’t fight.

Fidel looked at Camille inquiringly, and she said “I’m going to take him to my house and look after him. I don’t want him to rot in his shack… We have already packed some basic stuff for him, and I have discussed it with Dwayne and Dr Paulette – I just have to call my mother now so she can prepare the room and everything… We’ll have to see how we’ll deal with the rota later on when Dr Paulette has given us a prognosis for where things will go from here… It might be necessary to make a few changes, and I’ll have to talk to the Commissioner as well…”

“Oh, I’m happy that you want to look after him,” Fidel said gladly. “I had been thinking about how to deal with the situation – I would have asked Juliet if we could take him to our house, but as it is, we’re having her sister and the kids around for the weekend, so it wouldn’t be – I mean… he wouldn’t have the peace and care he’d need under those circumstances.”

Dwayne felt a little guilty now for not offering his help, but realistically, everyone knew that he neither had the space nor the patience to take care of a sick person. Still, he felt he should offer his support, so he said “Hey, if it turns out that you need anything, you can give me a shopping list and I’ll get whatever you need. I mean, it will be troublesome enough to look after the Chief, and you won’t have the time or peace of mind to go shopping on top of everything else. Or if you need more clothes for him… just give me the key to his shack, and I’ll retrieve them. Depending on how he’ll feel, he might need new underwear or new shirts…”

Camille was already on the phone. She nodded gratefully in Dwayne’s direction, smiled and mouthed “Thank you”. Then she turned away and began to speak with Catherine. The conversation was in French, but the others knew the language well enough to understand that Catherine was not too excited about the whole scenario. Eventually, Camille pointed out that the Commissioner would surely appreciate their help – the quicker the Inspector was back on his feet, the better…

Apparently, that approach did the trick. She finished with a relieved “Merci, Maman…” and ended the call. “Right,” she said, “it’s decided. Maman will prepare the room, and we’ll take him there.”

Dr Paulette nodded gravely and remarked “I’m glad you’ll take care of him. He might not be too happy about it – he’s an independent, proud man, and he surely would prefer to manage on his own, but there are situations when you need help… he’ll have to accept this.”

She packed the blood sample into her bag, got up and said “Well, you might want to inform the Commissioner now, and then we’ll have to get him to your house somehow. Except for the stairs here – are there any other obstacles making transport difficult?”

Camille explained that her house was basically a bungalow, located in a quiet street not too far from her mother’s house, in the old part of town – she had moved there only a few months ago after extensive renovations had been made. After her friend Aimee had been killed, this project had given her something to do – and she had welcomed the stress that had come with coordinating the renovations. It had distracted her…

“There’s no upstairs, it’s all on one level”, she explained now. “It’s small, but big enough for me. You might remember Simone Neveu, the lady who lived there for many years? She has moved to Guadeloupe where she now lives with her daughter, Céline, and they wanted to get rid of the house.”

Dr Paulette had heard about Mme Neveu’s move, but hadn’t been aware that the house had been sold. “It’s a nice little house,” she said. “I’ve been there a couple of times… Mme Neveu was one of Dr Steve’s patients, but when he was on holidays, I usually stepped in for him, and she wasn’t always well enough to come to the surgery. The house needed some redecorating, but had lots of potential. I imagine you had it all renovated, so I’m sure it’s lovely now. And how convenient that it’s at the end of the street – that way you’re in town, but it’s quiet. I guess you were a bit fed up with all the noise where your mother lives?”

Camille answered “That was one thing… and then it also got a bit cramped in Maman’s place. I mean, I only had one room there, and I wanted a bit more space… and…” “… privacy, I suppose,” Dr Paulette added drily. “I’ve lived with my mother for many years, too,” she said, “and I know how taxing it can be, no matter how much you love your parents, and vice versa.”

Dwayne chuckled when he heard that. That all sounded very familiar to him… He had been living on his own for many years now, but he remembered only too well how he had hated being in a house with lots and lots of family members – there had constantly been aunts, uncles, cousins and other relatives around in his teenage times – many moons ago – and he had regularly escaped from the chaos by meeting up with his friends and spending time on the beach, in bars or in dance clubs. There had been people, too, but at least they hadn’t been nosey and annoying – and they hadn’t tried to push him to doing things he hadn’t wanted to do or asked all sorts of curious questions he hadn’t wanted to answer.

Camille felt how her face got warm – Dr Paulette hat hit the nail right on the head. “Well, yes,” she conceded, “that’s right… Well, whatever, I think Richard… er – the Chief – will have peace and quiet there. Maman promised to get the room prepared for him, and he’ll have everything he’ll need there. I’ll do my best to take care of him, but I have to admit I’m not used to looking after sick people. You’ll have to give me some advice on what to do and how to be prepared for tricky situations… and maybe you can give me a hint on what to feed him when he wakes up and feels up to eating. I mean, he didn’t fancy my mother’s chicken soup when he was ill last time, and I would like him to recuperate as quickly as possible.”

Richard stirred on the narrow camp bed and murmured something unintelligible. Dr Paulette turned to him and said “Poor man… Fidel, I think you should give him something to drink, and then we’ll get him dressed again, move him into the Rover and take him to Camille’s house. It’s time for him to get some serious rest now.” Fidel went to help Richard into an upright position and supported him while Dwayne came with a glass of water – Richard would have gulped it down greedily, but Dwayne made sure that he drank slowly so he didn’t swallow the wrong way.

They removed the wet towels and replaced it with his shirt, then Dwayne and Fidel exchanged a determined glance and helped Richard on his feet. He swayed and would have fallen if they hadn’t supported him, and they carried him out of the station and down the stairs to the Rover. Camille had snatched his jacket and the briefcase, and while Dwayne, Fidel and Dr Paulette were busy manouevering Richard into the vehicle, she redirected the phone to her mobile in case an urgent call came in and closed down the station.

When she returned to the car, she said “Right… Fidel, you will come with me and Dr Paulette. You –“ she pointed to Dwayne – “will follow us with the bike. I need both of you to bring the Chief into the house and get him – er – ready for bed…” She paused for a moment, then she added “Afterwards, Dr Paulette will advise us on the shopping list, and we’ll discuss the rota.”

Richard was huddled in the backseat, he was more or less muzzy and clearly didn’t know what was going on around him. Fidel sat next to him, steadied him, and off they went.

*************

Richard was floating in an ocean of dull vagueness. He realised he was being moved around and taken from one place to another, but couldn’t quite grasp what was happening. He felt a hand on his shoulder, an arm around his body… but couldn’t figure out who it was.

He managed to open his eyes for a moment, but didn’t recognise the face he looked at. It was a dark face, the eyes were full of worry. He tried to speak, but couldn’t get out any articulate words. He tried again, and the face in front of him lit up. He recognised that much. Then, a distant voice said “You’re safe with us, sir. Soon, you’ll be in bed and get some rest.”

That sounded good. He wanted nothing more than lying down and getting more comfortable. Then he’d surely feel better soon… With a deep sigh, he leant back, and his head fell on Fidel’s shoulder.

*************

Catherine opened the door as she saw the mini-caravan of vehicles approach the house. She had not been enthusiastic about Camille’s decision to bring Richard to her house, but she understood her motives – maybe better than Camille did herself – and knew she couldn’t stop her, anyway. She also realised that it was up to her to make it appear all respectable and harmless – if she approved of Camille’s actions, nobody in the neighbourhood would dare to make snide remarks.

When she saw Richard, however, she understood that she wouldn’t have to lie or make up things. He was in a miserable state, similar to what he had been like over two years ago when she had looked after him for an hour everyday. She had felt a little guilty back then for not having more time for him, but it had been an extremely busy period at the bar, plus Camille hadn’t been there, so she hadn’t had anyone to lend her a hand, anyway. And Richard hadn’t been a particularly docile patient…

Of course, when he had said all the nasty things about her chicken soup, she had been very hurt and thought it served him right to be lost and forlorn in his shack – but that had been when he had already been feeling a little better. The first few days had actually been fairly miserable for him.

When she had mentioned it to Camille in passing a few weeks later, her daughter had been aghast and asked incredulously “And you left him alone in his shack? What if he had fallen and hurt himself? Yes, I know – he didn’t want it any other way… but he wasn’t lucid, was he, and he couldn’t judge the scope of his words… And to think that I gave him a dressing-down for insulting your chicken soup… I should have given the whole selfish lot of you a dressing-down for neglecting him like that! And that includes the Commissioner… how cold-hearted of him to only replace him with a useless Sergeant he had picked up in some odd hotel and never check on Richard – did everyone think he’s made of asbestos? Even a childish nutcase like him needs some care and ministration… My word, how disgusting… and I haven’t been any better – I should have been there for him instead of only thinking of myself…”

She had left it at that, but Catherine had secretly felt a little ashamed for her lack of compassion. Well, it seemed that Camille was determined to make up for what had happened back then…

Catherine sighed as she watched them bringing the Inspector into the house.

She hoped Camille wouldn’t regret her kindheartedness. Richard was a difficult person under normal circumstances, and his current condition would hardly make him any more biddable…


	3. Acclimatization

A few hours later, Camille quietly opened the door to her bedroom and peeked inside. Richard was sound asleep. She sneaked in to switch on the little lamp in the corner – if he woke up, she didn’t want him to be confused. She figured he’d be agitated to find himself in unfamiliar surroundings, anyway, and it would be best if he could at least see the room he was in.

Proudly, she looked around. Her bedroom was painted in a light and friendly shade of apricot, the ceiling, doorframes and windowframes were white as was the furniture –the nightstands, the chest of drawers, an armchair and the closet doors. The kingsize bed was iron, though. The dark wooden floorboards were oiled so they shimmered in a deep mahagony colour, fluffy rugs were laid out at each side of the bed. The curtains, the cover of the armchair as well as the canopy over the bed were cream coloured with an apricot floral pattern (the colour was exactly matching the walls), seamed with a dark green trimming – the matching quilted green-and-cream bed coverlet was sitting on the armchair, neatly folded. A big mirror with an antique iron frame was placed on the wall above the chest of drawers, and a few knick-knacks completed the unexpectedly romantic atmosphere of the room. It wasn’t overdone, but clearly more grandiose than Camille’s usual style.

It was perhaps a little corny and ‘Victorian’, but she liked this colour scheme and décor. She had created this fancy and lavish space on purpose - here, she could get away from the reality of her sometimes tough and taxing job; here she could forget about being a tough copper who had to be pragmatic, to-the-point and no-nonsense… here, she could dream and escape into another world…

This was her oasis, a little decadent, maybe, but lush and luxurious…

The rest of her house was mostly minimalistic and practical. There weren’t many playful elements in the living room, the kitchen or the bathroom. Only the guest room was a little more ornate, but not as frilly as the bedroom, and the colours were less feminine – she had gone for a more neutral, but warm yellow there.

Dwayne had raised his eyebrows when he and Fidel had brought in the Chief – he hadn’t expected Camille to fancy such a flowery and romantic style. Fidel hadn’t looked twice – he was just keen on getting Richard comfortable. While he and Dwayne had helped Richard – who was half there and half elsewhere with his mind – to change into his pyjamas, Catherine, Camille and Dr Paulette had sat down in the kitchen and compiled a shopping list.

Later on, when Dr Paulette had left and gone home by taxi, the team had sat down and discussed the rota. They had agreed that Fidel and Dwayne would manage on their own for two days – Camille’s day off had been scheduled for Monday, anyway, and she wanted to spend the Friday at home, too.

She had explained “Since the Chief has dropped out of the rota, I’ll be on call over the weekend, but I’d really appreciate if at least one of you was available in case of emergency as well. I mean, if anything happens, I’ll have to see in how far Maman can help me here, so it would be a huge relief to know that one of you could step in if anything urgent happens that we’ll have to attend to…”

Fidel had nodded and said “I think that shouldn’t be a problem. You know we have family staying over, but they all know that we work shifts and have to be on call every once in a while. I could take over the Saturday – I think Dwayne would prefer the Sunday?” Dwayne had agreed with that suggestion. He’d have to be on standby from midnight on, but usually, he didn’t go out before ten p.m., anyway, and if he knew he’d be on call, he’d just arrange his activities around that.

Camille had continued “So, that’s settled. And if it’s okay with you – and the Commissioner agrees as well – I’ll also be on call tomorrow and on Monday, so technically, I’ll be working… Maybe one of you could bring me the two files that I’ve been working on, and I’ll write the reports here. After that, I think the worst should be over. Dr Paulette said that Saturday or Sunday should bring the peak of the fever, and after that, I could leave the Chief alone for a few hours, and Maman could maybe check on him once or twice during the day, depending on how the whole situation develops. Dr Paulette said that most likely by Wednesday next week he’ll be over the worst, and so I think that he’ll be able to return to his house soon after that, maybe on Friday or Saturday. We’ll see.”

She had then given Dwayne the shopping list, and after he and Fidel had left, she had called the Commissioner to inform him about the situation. Selwyn Patterson had been concerned to hear that his Chief of Police was ill, and although he had secretly thought that Camille might be exaggerating a little, he had approved of her decisions and asked her to keep him informed on the Inspector’s progress.

Richard stirred in his sleep, and Camille went to the bedside to feel his temperature. His forehead still was very hot, but he wasn’t as restless any more. Obviously, it helped that he was now wearing his pyjamas and settled in a comfortable bed.

She opened the closet, took out a few items, then she tiptoed out of the room, leaving the door ajar, and opened the door to the spare room. Her mother had been right – she couldn’t possibly let Richard (or anybody else) sleep in there given the state it was in. She had used it as a ‘junk room’ and carelessly dumped all sorts of things there, not only her ironing board and the laundry basket resided in there, but also an assortment of shoeboxes, storage containers and other things.

So, Catherine had changed the sheets in the bedroom, and Richard was in there now. Camille had started to clear away the mess in the guestroom after everyone had left, but there was still more to do. Well, it looked tidy enough for the moment… With a soft kick, she moved a stray dumb bell under the bed. She wouldn’t have time for exercising, anyway…

She closed the curtains, put away the coverlet and turned on the air condition before going to the bathroom to get ready for bed. A few minutes later, she returned to the guestroom.

She plucked at the seams of her nightshirt. It was one of her favourites - a souvenir from Paris… Since she had moved to this house she had switched to wearing nighties again – her mother’s house had no air condition, and she had only had a rather small bedroom there, so she had unavoidably had to forego wearing nightshirts. It had simply been too hot. She had air condition in her new place, though, and so she had happily started wearing nighties again.

As she slipped between the sheets and turned off the light, she remembered how she had once told Richard that he should sleep naked when he had complained about the heat in his shack. She smiled at the memory of his shocked face. How easy it was to wind him up!

Well, whatever. Hopefully, he’d have a fairly quiet night. At least the air condition should help to make things a little more comfortable for him.

*************

Richard felt like he was gliding through the air. Or was he swimming? He couldn’t quite decide. “Doesn’t matter,” he muttered. Was he awake? Or was he dreaming? He tried to open his eyes. What time was it? It wasn’t quite dark, but it wasn’t light, either. With some effort, he shifted in the bed… he couldn’t sit up, moving hurt too much – where was he? This was not his bed… This was not his room, and it wasn’t his house, either. He felt panic welling up… for a moment, he felt alarmed. Then he concentrated hard and looked around. Soft colours. Feminine. Lavish. This didn’t look dangerous. But where was he? He had no clue. He tried to talk himself into sitting up so he could get a better idea of his surroundings, but he just didn’t manage… Oh, this was annoying!

Camille woke up with a start. At first she wasn’t sure what had woken her, but then she heard someone talking… Richard! She switched on the lamp on the nightstand, got out of bed and headed to the corridor. Sure enough, he was talking – it was a mix of clearly pronounced words and unintelligible muttering. He sounded puzzled, but not really scared.

She switched on the light in the corridor, carefully pushing the door to the bedroom open. With a few steps she was by the bedside. “Sir,” she whispered. He looked at her in confusion, his eyes wide. “Richard…,” she tried again. She noticed that he was trying to bring her face into focus and didn’t move… finally, he sighed with relief and murmured “Oh, Camille… it’s you… don’t go away!”

“No, I won’t…” She sat on the bed, taking his hand. It was hot and dry. He fell back in the cushions for a few minutes, then he shifted again and looked at her. His eyes were blurred now, and he said in a troubled voice “This isn’t my room. Why am I here? I don’t know where I am…”

Camille said without thinking “You are with me, Richard. You’re safe, I promise.” As soon as she had spoken these words, she thought they were infinitely foolish, but Richard smiled feebly and said “Oh, good. All is well then. Don’t go… please.”

With that, he drifted back to a restless sleep. Camille didn’t dare to leave him – his hand clutched hers, and she feared she’d wake him if she tried to wriggle it out of his grip.

About 20 minutes later, he stirred again and murmured “Mum?” Camille said tenderly “Mum can’t come right now. But I’m here. What do you want, Richard?” “Must go… toilet?” he slurred.

Camille’s eyes widened. Why hadn’t she thought of this? Good grief. Determined to avoid all awkwardness, she pulled herself together and got up, still holding his hand. Softly, she said “Come on, I’ll help you.”

She helped him to prop up in the cushions so he could get up and come to his feet, then she supported him as firmly as possible, and then she led him to the bathroom, one step after another. He leant on the doorframe, completely spent, his eyes closed, and murmured “Thanks. You can… leave me now… Will get by on my own…” She switched on the light and then closed the door firmly behind him. After a while, she heard the flush of the toilet and water splashing, followed by a thudding sound, then an exhausted, but clearly annoyed “Oy… what’s that… you darn… slippery slimy… piece of mud… wait, I’ll get you…”

She giggled. Obviously the soapbar had slipped out of his hands into the washbasin. A faint, but complacent “Ha!” indicated that he had retrieved it again. She waited for him to open the door, and when he finally emerged from the bathroom, he had a feeble, but smug grin on his face. “Tried to get away. But I caught it!” he announced triumphantly, though with a weak voice.

Camille smiled and said “Very good, Richard. Now, let’s go back to bed…”

A few minutes later, he was back in bed. Before she let him sink back into the cushions, Camille gave him some water – he was very thirsty. When the glass was empty, he fell down to the pillow, exhausted. Camille gently stroked his forehead, and he whispered with closed eyes “Thank you. You… so good to me…”

Seconds later, he had dozed off again, his sleep seemed more peaceful now, and Camille tiptoed out of the room.

As she slipped between the sheets again, she mused that this would be an interesting experience. She just hoped that Richard would be more lucid soon. Dr Paulette had warned her that he might hallucinate and not recognise her; however, it was one thing to be told about it – but a completely different thing to experience it.

****************

When Camille took a peek into the bedroom in the morning, Richard was still asleep. He had made a mess of the sheets during the night – obviously, the night had been a little troublesome for him. But apparently, he hadn’t woken up again, and he hadn’t spoken too loudly in his sleep, either. Camille had left both doors ajar, so she could hear him and get up to help him again, if necessary. He had murmured a little and said the occasional word, but it hadn’t been too dramatic, so after a while, she had fallen asleep, too.

He looked so helpless, so defenceless in his sleep… and despite the clearly noticeable stubble he looked younger than his actual age. Camille smiled as she pulled up the sheet again to tuck him up. Yes, it had been the right decision to take him to her house. He’d be much more comfortable here than in his overheated shack…

She went into the kitchen and poured herself a mug of coffee. As her phone buzzed, she set the mug on the counter and answered “Yes, Fidel? Oh, it’s okay – he’s sleeping now. It was a bit of a restless night, and he hallucinated a little. No, too early to make any guesses at this point – we’ll just see how things develop. I’ll see how he’ll feel when he wakes up. Yes, no worries… I have toast, and I think I’ll manage a fairly decent cup of tea. Dr Paulette said tea is okay, so… Yes. Oh, that’s nice – thanks. I hope that Dwayne will get everything Dr Paulette put on her list. Right. So, 10 a.m. – yes, that sounds good. I have my laptop here, so I will type up the reports then – and I can e-mail them when I’m done. No problem – you should be able to print them out for the files that will go to the Commissioner’s office and put the whole thing into the database then without reformatting them. Thanks, yes. So long then!”

So, she’d have two more hours until Dwayne would arrive to bring her the files she had requested and – more importantly – the shopping. Dr Paulette had given her a few helpful hints regarding food, and since she had almost run out of laundry detergent, she had also put that on the list. She expected she’d have to wash the sheets and maybe Richard’s nightwear a couple of times during his stay. Not that she was keen on doing so, but she had sworn to herself that he shouldn’t suffer more than ‘necessary’ (a strange word under the circumstances given), and she knew from experience that clean and fresh sheets and nightwear could make an enormous difference.

She sat down in her kitchen and flipped through a magazine she had purchased two days ago and hadn’t had the chance to read so far. She was just about to find out about the latest perfume trends when she heard a noise from the bedroom. Quickly, she got up and went to see if Richard was awake – and how he was doing.

****************

Richard tried to turn over, but somehow his body didn’t move the way he wanted it. It was the most annoying thing ever – it was like mysterious creatures hiding in the sheets were trying to tie him up. “Nasty little buggers,” he muttered and tried to kick them away. He made a bigger effort, trying to make his body obey and go along with his mind. “Oh by Jove… won’t you just DO what I want…” he swore. He fell back into the cushions, closing his eyes and panting with anger and exhaustion. Why was he so weak? This wasn’t right…

Suddenly, the sheets moved, a hand grabbed his shoulder, an arm came around to support him, and a familiar voice said softly “Wait, Richard, I’ll help you… right… is that more comfortable?” He opened his eyes and looked straight into Camille’s smiling face. He couldn’t help but smile back. “Wow,” he said “I still don’t know where I am, but it can’t be so bad when you’re here, too…”

Camile put her hand on his forehead and said with a slightly amused undertone – that was completely wasted on him as he still wasn’t entirely lucid - “You’re still feverish, that explains it. Are you hungry? I have breakfast for you.”

Richard was in awe… Whatever had brought him here – he wouldn’t complain. A comfortable, soft bed, a cool and airy room, breakfast… and a cheerful, smiling Camille to look after him – that didn’t seem too bad. If only he felt a little stronger…

But he lost track of his thoughts as he noticed the tray on the nightstand. There was toast and marmalade, a mug of tea and even a few shortbread fingers – he was in heaven. Suddenly he noticed that he was hungry, indeed.

With shining eyes, Camille watched him eating his breakfast. Well, the day had started nicely – she hoped it would stay that way.


	4. Getting Adjusted

The bell rang, and Camille hurried to open the door. “Sheesh,” she made as she saw Dwayne, ready to open his mouth and make a cheerful remark. “He’s just fallen asleep again, fortunately…”

“So, how is he doing?” Dwayne whispered, holding out the bags with groceries and squeezing the files under his other arm.

Camille rolled her eyes and took the bags. “Come in,” she said, “but please be quiet… Here, let’s go into the kitchen…” When she had put the bags on the worktop, she turned around and sighed.

Dwayne sniggered and asked “Is he being difficult?” Camille pulled a face and said “Yes and no. I mean… He’s asleep much of the time and not quite here when he’s awake, but I know now that Maman was right when she dissuaded me from becoming a nurse all those years back when I was thinking about what I wanted to be when I grew up… I don’t think I’m cut out for that sort of thing. I don’t think I could handle more than one patient at a time, and I didn’t expect it to be so… well, it’s not horrible, and he’s really not being difficult on purpose, if you know what I mean… but you have to be alert constantly, and it requires never-ending patience, as it seems… well, and you know me…”

Dwayne’s grin showed her that he knew exactly what she meant. He put the files on the kitchen table and said matter-of-factly “Well, you wanted it that way, didn’t you. And just so you know… I think you did the right thing. I have thought about the whole situation, and I feel that you’re right – we were quite inconsiderate when he got ill two years ago. I think we were thoughtless – we didn’t realise that it could be difficult and that he could hurt himself. Fact is, Juliet was pregnant back then, so Fidel couldn’t have taken him to his house, but he said he feels bad now for not even considering it. At least he brought him fruit and snacks… Mind you, it never occurred to me how he must have struggled in that hot little shack. No wonder he was delirious, miserable and crotchety. Amazing that he managed to solve the case in spite of all that – I mean, we kind of expected him to have superpowers, didn’t we. Not very fair, all things considered…”

He took off his cap and scratched his ear as he went on “To be honest, I’m ashamed. And I know that Fidel feels guilty, too. He said to me that Juliet suggested they’d take him in if it’s too much for you, but he feels that it would be too much of a hassle to move him once more. Juliet said that you should let her know if you need help, she’d be ready to step in if necessary. We’re all glad that you have taken him in for the duration of his illness. I think in a few days he should be much better – if you haven’t killed him by then, of course – and then it should be much easier. At the moment, he’s beside himself, I reckon – I mean, I know he came up with quite some rubbish when he was ill back then, so I figure it’s the same now…”

Camille nodded and said “You know, it’s kind of bizarre. He’s entirely clear in his head one minute, and the next minute he’s totally confused. So, he’s erratic, if you know what I mean… and I’m just not used to being around sick people, I guess. I don’t mind in this case – it was my decision to take him in, and I… I don’t mind so much because it’s him, if you know what I mean… but with strangers, it would perhaps be different. Easier in some ways, more difficult in others. Oh well. If nothing else, I do learn a few things about myself…” A little smile appeared on her face as she added in her mind ‘And maybe also about him…’ – but she didn’t say that aloud.

She pulled out her keyring and took off the key to Richard’s shack. “Here,” she said and held it out to Dwayne. “Before I forget – this is the key to the Chief’s house. You should put it into the jar in the safe so you and Fidel can use it in case of need. I won’t get out of here for a while, I figure! I’ll be busy with other things for a few days!”

“Has he insulted your food yet?” Dwayne asked with a twinkle in his eyes. Camille laughed. “No, not yet. I’m not holding my breath, though – you never know, do you. But actually he was pretty excited about his breakfast.” Dwayne arched his eyebrows inquiringly. “Oh, it wasn’t anything too sophisticated,” Camille explained, “just buttered toast with marmalade, tea and shortbread fingers as a treat. But you would have thought he had never eaten anything delicious like that before – and he thanked me three or four times. Clear sign that he’s not right in his head!”

“I didn’t know you had marmalade or shortbread in the house,” Dwayne remarked. “Mind you, I actually like these myself,” Camille admitted with a sheepish smile, “I just never mentioned it because I didn’t want him to think I fancy anything English…”

Her colleague couldn’t help but laugh out loud at this confession. “You’re quite a pair,” he chortled. Then he put on his cap again and said “Well, I must go now. If you need anything or want us to babysit the Chief for an hour in between, just give us a ring. We’ll be happy to help out.” Camille thanked him, and when he zoomed off on the motorbike, waving cheerfully, she held up her hand to greet him. She was lucky to be part of this team… and although she hadn’t been too happy at first when she had to join the Honoré police force, she wouldn’t want it any other way now….

Back in the kitchen, she had a look at the contents of the bags and was quite pleased with them. She was sure she could whip up some nice wholesome meals and snacks for Richard (and herself) with all the things that Dwayne had brought.

There were oranges, bananas, a pineapple and other fruit, vegetables, fresh chicken breast and beef (stored in a small insulated bag – they went straight into the fridge from the bag), toast, two different sorts of jam, black tea, herbal tea and everything else that had been on the shopping list.

Dwayne had even succeeded in finding the stock cubes that Dr Paulette had recommended. “You know, if he didn’t like your mother’s chicken soup,” she had said, “he might perhaps appreciate a good old traditional broth – or a _bouillon_ , as you might call it. He told me he went to boarding school, so I think he grew up with mostly rather bland and flat tasting food on one hand, but also with – um… - strongly processed food on the other hand. You acquire a certain taste from that, and that might be why he’s so set in his ways. Your mother’s food always is well seasoned, and she might have used a particular spice that he doesn’t like – without him being able to put his finger on what exactly it is. But if you stick to basic broth and add a few extras like vegetables, angel hair or rice, and maybe a little meat or egg custard, I think you’re on the safe side, and it would make sure he’d get enough fluids and also help with his salt balance. Give it a try at least.”

Dr Paulette had also left a small box of antipyretic analgesics and jotted down the recommended dose on the side. “These will help with the pain, and they will help to bring down the fever. He should not take more than three per day, though – the maximum would be four, but that really, really should be the exception – they’re pretty strong, so three per day should be enough, I think, along with his meals. You can check the info leaflet inside for more details. And you can always call me if you’re unsure about something, plus I’ll come round again on Monday after surgery to see how things have developed – unless his state deteriorates dramatically, then just ring me, and one of us will be right there.” Camille had found that very reassuring. She really didn’t have much experience in these things, but Dr Paulette gave her the feeling that she was competent and would do just fine.

Camille realised that Dwayne had also brought a huge tissue box. And there were laundry detergent and wet wipes – all these things would make it easier for her to keep things hygienic and clean… an important aspect when you had to look after an ill person! Particularly when the patient was a fussy Englishman!

******************

Richard had understood by now that he was in Camille’s house. How he had got there – he didn’t know. The last thing he remembered was that someone – Fidel? – had divested him of his shirt – against his wish, but he hadn’t stood a chance, given the fact that he had felt very ill – and wrapped cold wet towels around his chest.

Everything else after that was a big blur. He seemed to recall that someone had touched him, he had felt a prick in his arm, and that was it. He had no idea how he had ended up in Camille’s house… and in his pyjamas, on top of that. Surely, he hadn’t worn his pyjamas at work? No, not if there had been a shirt involved, too… He tried to remember, but the chaos in his head only got worse.

An embarrassing thought crossed his mind – had Camille undressed him? He tried to dig in his memory to find out, but couldn’t find any hint there. And was this her bed?

He had only been to her new house once before when she had invited everyone for a housewarming party, but of course he hadn’t been in her bedroom then. It was a nice room – the furniture and everything came across as a little ‘Victorian”, if not old-fashioned, and considering how ‘up-to-date’, almost minimalistic and generally ‘modern’ Camille appeared to be usually, it was quite a surprise that she’d furnish her bedroom with these somewhat traditional and definitely ‘romantic’ items. It revealed a totally new side of her… and he found that very interesting.

Where did she sleep now that he was in her bedroom? He knew she had a big sofa in the living room, but sleeping there wouldn’t be too convenient for her, would it? And why hadn’t they taken him to his shack? He had done fine there when he had been ill with the fever last time, hadn’t he? Well, no… not really. Actually, he had felt rather lonely and forlorn once he had overcome the worst part of it. Whatever. He admitted to himself that it probably was more comfortable here… But why had they taken him to Camille’s place and not to hospital? Not that he’d want to be there, but well… that would have been the logical thing to do, wouldn’t it?

Before he could find an answer to all these questions, the door opened, and Camille came in. “Time for lunch, Richard,” she said, bringing in a tray that she put down on the nightstand.

“Haven’t I just had breakfast?” he asked. He had lost all track of time.

“Well,” she replied cheerfully, “that was over four hours ago. You’ve slept a little, and it’s past noon now. I’ve been advised to feed and give you medication regularly, so here you go!”

“What is it?” he asked suspiciously as he noticed there was a little bowl and a spoon on the tray. “If it’s chicken soup – I’m not going to eat it.” He sounded like a petulant child now.

Camille wanted to laugh and cry at the same moment. How were they supposed to get through the forthcoming days if he kept switching so effortlessly from sweet and docile to morose and grumpy?

Silently, she counted to ten before replying “No, it’s not chicken soup. I know you don’t like chicken soup. I have made this for you, and I want you to give it a try. Let me help you to sit up.”

He still was sceptical, though. “If it’s not chicken soup, why don’t you just say what it is? I bet it is chicken soup, and you’re trying to… bam… bamboozle me.” His tongue tripped over the word. Darn, this fever was doing him in – his head was in a fog.

She looked at him in confusion and asked “I’m trying to do – what? I’ve never heard that word before… and whatever it means, I’m definitely not doing that. I promise you, it’s not chicken soup. So come on, sit up.”

She took his hand and pulled him forward, slipping her other arm right behind his shoulders and supporting him. Automatically, he went along and sat up. The momentum of the movement threw him forward, and instinctively she caught him, so he was in her arms for a split second.

That felt confusingly good, he registered. But before he could enjoy the feeling, it was over – he was propped up in the cushions, the bed’s headrest gave him additional support, and Camille was sitting on the bedside, not far away, but in respectable distance.

She had noticed that his grip wasn’t very steady yet and figured he’d most likely spill his food all over the place if she let him eat by himself, so she took the bowl and the spoon and got ready to feed him.

He glowered at her and said “Oh no.” She said sweetly “Oh yes. Open your mouth.” “I’m not a child,” he grumbled, “and I still don’t know what it is…”

“For heaven’s sake… it’s hemlock, of course!” she exploded. “What else could it be? I’ve been wanting to feed you a hemlock and poison ivy cocktail ever since I laid my eyes on you…” She rolled her eyes and said “No, of course it’s not. Don’t be ridiculous – as if I’d ever want to harm you! I want you to feel better, not worse – and I think you will actually like it. Come on, open your mouth!”

His mouth firmly shut, his eyebrows knit together, he kept glowering at her. She had no idea where he was taking the energy from – but he really made an effort to pick a fight…

She glowered back and said in an alarmingly quiet voice – with a clearly threatening undertone - “Richard… if you don’t do as I bid you, I will get _awfully_ annoyed with you. And you know how uncomfortable it can be when I’m annoyed with you…”

That finally cowed him, and he opened his mouth – still glaring at her.

She moved closer and began to feed him. After the first spoonful, she noticed with some satisfaction that his eyes widened in surprise, and he said, astonishment in his voice “This is… this is good. I haven’t had a decent broth in a long time…” She just smiled, and when the bowl was empty and she had put it back on the tray, together with the spoon, he looked at her and said “This was delicious. I – I’m sorry. I shouldn’t… I mean…”

“Wait, is that an apology? Are you really telling me you’re sorry?” she asked. Her eyebrows were arched, but a tiny smile curved her lips. He looked down on his hands and said almost inaudibly, embarrassment in his voice “Yes.”

Much to his surprise, she didn’t laugh. She took one of his hands, squeezed it lightly and said “Apology accepted. Look, Richard – all I want is for you to get healthy and fit again. You are at my house, and I promise, I’ll look after you and do for you what I can. All I’m asking is that you do what you can, too – and that means, you’ll listen to what I say, you’ll take your medication, you’ll call me when you need help, and you’ll eat, sleep and rest as much as you need to get back on your feet. Okay?” He nodded, and she continued “The next few days will be rough – you’ll drift between feverish and clear, and it won’t be easy for either of us. So, let’s make the best of it, right?”

He nodded again, and she took a tablet from the blister strip next to the bowl. “Here,” she said. “This should help with the pain and the fever.” He looked at the white tablet in her palm for a moment, then he sighed. “I don’t have a choice, do I?” he said, a little frustrated. He didn’t like having to take medication. He wanted to be healthy without having to swallow pills and such. “No, you haven’t,” Camille confirmed. Reluctantly, he took the tablet, along with a swig of water.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” she asked softly as she got up to take away the tray. Then a thought crossed her mind, and – feigning casualness - she remarked “Oh, and in case you need to… er… use the bathroom – it’s just across the corridor. You’ve been there before, but I’m not sure if you remember at all, so I’m telling you…”

“Right… er… thank you,” he stuttered, and she hurried to leave the room, suddenly a little embarrassed. She chided herself for being so flustered, but the truth was that it was one thing to wind him up when he was fit and in fairly good condition - and a completely different one to see him in his helplessness and realise that he depended on her.

If nothing else, she was learning a lot about herself in this situation…

She retreated to the living room and continued to work on the reports. As she was brooding over a particularly complicated sentence, she heard Richard getting up and going to the bathroom. A few minutes later, she felt that she wasn’t alone any more and looked up – he stood in the doorframe, holding on to it and asking “What are you… what are you doing?”

She smiled at the sight of him in his striped pyjamas, his hair sticking out in all directions, the dark shadow of a stubble on his face, and replied “Writing reports. It’s Friday, you know, and I’ve got to work. I couldn’t leave you alone, though, so I’m working from home today, with the Commissioner’s permission…”

“Ah…” Silence. She saw how the cogwheels started moving in his head and question marks popped up in his eyes – obviously, he was getting tired again and had trouble focusing. Then he said abruptly “Right… I’m… I’m off to bed again…” He padded back to the bedroom, holding on to the walls, and Camille noticed he was barefeet.

When she checked on him half an hour later, he was asleep. She went to the kitchen and closed the door, then she dialled the station’s number. “Fidel? Hey, it’s Camille… Yes, it’s going okay. He’s foggy-headed one minute and entirely lucid the next moment, so it’s difficult, and you know that Dr Paulette said the next few days will be tough, but we’ll get there… Listen, could you go to the Chief’s shack and pick up his slippers? Yes, his house slippers. We forgot them yesterday, and I don’t want him to get cold feet – you know the corridor here is tiled, and… yes, I gave Dwayne the keys, they should be in the jar in the safe now… Thank you. See you tonight then…”

Back at the station, Fidel scratched his head as he went to the small safe hidden behind a framed picture of the island volcano. Dwayne looked at him inquiringly, and the young sergeant said “That was Camille. Remember how she always said the Chief is a silly wimp with his pyjamas and his house slippers?” Dwayne nodded, and Fidel continued “Guess what. She wants me to pick up the slippers and bring them to her house so the Chief won’t get cold feet when he walks from the bedroom to the loo…”

He shook his head in disbelief as he retrieved the Chief’s key from the safe, and Dwayne chuckled. “She’s got it bad, huh?” he sniggered. Fidel looked at him and asked “You mean, she’s…?” His older colleague nodded and said “Sure. You know she’s got a thing about him. And if you ask me, he’s got a thing about her as well… Should be interesting to see where this will lead them…”

Fidel said “Whatever. In any case, she basically ordered me to bring his slippers, so I guess I’d rather hurry up and do as she bade me… The station is all yours, Dwayne!”


	5. Nocturnal Incidents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 5 for you :-) It might take me a little while to come up with the next chapter, but in the meantime, just enjoy this one! I'll be back as soon as I can.

It was well past 10 p.m., and Richard was tired. It had been an exhausting day – although he had spent most of it in bed and couldn’t remember all details of what had happened. Much of the day disappeared in a daze – which was very dissatisfying for him. He liked to have things in order, and it didn’t make him happy that he wasn’t in control of his life at the moment. Alas, there was nothing he could do about it… he had to accept this, no matter how much he disliked it.

He didn’t dislike being here, though… He disliked not being in control, but being here actually was nice. He felt comfortable at Camille’s house and in her bed, and he was glad that he was not on his own. When he had been so ill two years ago, he had felt very lonely at times, and even going to the bathroom had been a major expedition for him. Here, he just had to get up and haul himself over the corridor – there were no steps, no loose floorboards, no obstacles. And it was clean – there was no sand all around, no dustbunnies, no crickets, lizards or scary-looking long-legged spiders. He felt safe here.

And he had learnt a few interesting things today – one of them was that Camille made an amazingly delicious broth. He had had one small bowl for lunch and two for dinner. The fresh fruit salad she had come up with as dessert after dinner hadn’t been bad, either. After his initial unwillingness to get fed like a child, he had understood that resistance was futile. Camille had given him a friendly, but unambiguous lecture that had boiled down to “my house, my rules”, and he had to concede – reluctantly – that she had a point with that.

Much to his frustration, he still felt very weak, and he understood that she didn’t want him to spill food everywhere, so he accepted getting fed… And to be honest, she did a good job and had taken away all possible embarrassment by dealing with the situation matter-of-factly and unpretentiously. When she had asked him if he wanted more broth, he had hesitated, and she had said “Please, Richard, if you want more, just say so. I really don’t mind sitting with you a little longer, and you’re not a burden at all, if that’s what you’re worrying about, so tuck in… or rather, let me help you with that! You must regain your strength, and all I want is for you to feel comfortable and happy!” Now that he looked back on the situation, he was actually touched by the genuine concern in her voice. She had made it sound like she really wanted him to be here…

He remembered that Fidel had been there to visit before dinner. Much to Richard’s amazement, he had brought his house slippers and the striped robe that he sometimes wore around the shack. “Camille said you might need these things, so I picked them up for you…” he had explained with a slightly embarrassed grin after they had exchanged a few niceties – as far as Richard was capable to do so in his condition.

Fortunately, the young sergeant had taken away his worries – he had not dared to ask him about the details of his arrival at Camille’s house, but Fidel had sensed that the Chief was a little concerned because he couldn’t remember anything. So, he had said “Nice to see you a little more chipper than yesterday, sir. I swear, when Dwayne and I brought you in here and helped you change into your pyjamas, we thought you were half-dead. It’s a relief to know that you’re on the mend, although it will take a little while until you’ll be fit for action again… It’s important to cure this completely, you know how fever can affect your heart if you ignore the symptoms and try to get active again too quickly. Don’t get disheartened by what the fever brings – I know how frustrating it is, but you’ve got over it once, and you’ll get over it again. And this time, you have Camille looking after you – so you basically have no choice but get well again soon.” He had laughed understandingly when Richard had rolled his eyes, and they had exchanged a conspiratorial glance.

Richard shifted a little to get more comfortable in bed and recalled how Camille had held him briefly when he had been so wobbly just before lunch. Yes, he remembered that very well… He had replayed the scene several times in his head today. It had felt good to have her arms around him… It had been so long since anybody had held him like that – he had forgotten how good it felt (provided it was a person you liked… and yes, he did like Camille – he admitted that much to himself).

He also had to give her credit for being patient with him – he knew he was frustratingly slow with everything, and for someone like her, who wanted things to happen instantly at the snap of her fingers, she was surprisingly forbearing. He couldn’t quite figure out why she was literally going out of her way to make him feel at ease… usually, her main concern was teasing him and making him look stupid.

But actually that wasn’t quite fair, he mused… she had played pranks and done silly things during the first year of his stay, but their relationship had undergone a change during the second year, and they had become… closer, for lack of a better word. That had felt good - so good that he had actually missed her during the week he had spent in the UK. He had also missed Fidel and Dwayne, but as far as Camille was concerned – that had been a different kind of missing someone… he had reluctantly admitted that to himself.

And when Fidel had told him after his return that they all had been fidgety and nervous because they had feared he would not return, he had been flummoxed when Dwayne had added “That’s right, sir… we all missed you. Camille was beside herself during the entire week of your absence – and you surely must have noticed how she dressed up when you came back. That was her way to celebrate your return!” Dwayne had said that with a twinkle in his eyes, so Richard had taken it with a grain of salt, but upon closer reflection… yes, that dress had indeed looked special…

Ah, fiddlesticks. She was always nicely dressed, and surely she had had plans for the evening, anyway…

As if thinking of her had miraculously made her appear on the scene, the door opened and she stood on the threshold. “How are you, Richard?” she asked softly. “Okay, I guess,” he replied. She arched her eyebrows and looked at him with a scrutinizing glance. “Really?” she asked.

He sighed and admitted “Tired… and confused, if you must know… I don’t know why I’m still so tired… I guess I’ve slept more during the past two days than during the month before this fever…” She smiled at his impatience and said “It’s the fever, you know… sleep is good for you. Do you want anything before I go to bed? There’s water on the nightstand, and…” “No, no, I’m okay. Thank you… no… no need to make a fuss…”

For a moment, she just looked at him, then she said gently “Right… Good night, Richard, and if you need anything – I’m right next door. Don’t hesitate to call me, okay?”

He nodded, and much to his surprise, she didn’t turn to leave immediately, but came to the bed, pulled up the sheets and straightened the rug at the foot of the bed. “Sleep well,” she whispered and switched off the light on the nightstand. It was now almost entirely dark in the room, only a little nightlight that she had connected to one of the outlets near the door was on.

Richard cuddled into the pillow. This bed was so much nicer than the one he had at the shack. He’d have to consider getting a new mattress some time… Oh, and it was nice and cool in this house…

What a blessing that he could spend some time here instead of getting roasted in his beach shack…

******************

Camille was fairly pleased with how the day had gone. Richard clearly wasn’t happy with his weakness and invalidity, and it had been a bit scary to see how his condition could change from one minute to the next, but overall, he seemed to be on a good way. She was glad that he had spent so much time sleeping and dozing.

And it had surprised her how mellow he had been in general. She would have expected him to be more irritable and ill-tempered… but no, he had thanked her for small things several times, and yesterday night, he had said she was good to him… and his voice had sounded truly grateful.

Much to her amazement, she had managed to rein in her impatience – most of the time. It wasn’t easy for her – but maybe this was a good lesson for her, after all.

She realised that she had always taken good health for granted, and while she had never believed Richard was a malingerer, she had suspected he might blow things out of proportion and exaggerate a little when it came to suffering from the climate, feeling uncomfortable and all that. She hadn’t been there when he had had his first bout of fever during his first year on Saint Marie, but it had sounded bad, and she had felt sorry for him. Still, she had not been able to fully understand how miserable he must have felt… a long way from home, all by himself in his shack, the only company being a skittish little lizard…

He was a cranky person by nature, of course, and so she had erroneously assumed that he simply wasn’t trying hard enough… The few minutes in his overheated shack yesterday had almost made her faint – and he lived there permanently. How did he do that? Of course, his choice of clothes didn’t help – he was not making compromises there, and that clearly was a mistake.

But did that mean he generally wasn’t trying hard enough to get adjusted to life in the Caribbean? And if he hated it so much here, why had he returned from the UK a few weeks ago… Fidel had told her that he had mentioned he had missed the team… She had been delighted to hear that – so he wasn’t as cold and indifferent as he had tried to make everyone believe. And well… she had missed him like crazy, although she rather would have cut off one of her fingers than admit it to him.

Whatever. She hoped the next few days would be fairly uneventful, and she’d manage to nurse him back to good health and sanity. With that thought, she turned over in her bed and slowly drifted off into the land of nod.

******************

Richard was running away, but much to his horror, he didn’t seem to move fast enough. The Medusa-headed creature that was after him was getting closer and closer. He turned around and could clearly see the piercing eyes and hissing tongues of the snakes on her head… He tried to scream, but didn’t seem to make any sound. His escape route was seamed with faceless people – wait, they did have mouths, huge mouths, full of sharp teeth, and they were encircling him, laughing at him… He was looking back, the creature was getting closer… he kept running… uphill… all of a sudden, he realised he was heading towards a cliff… and there he was, at the edge, looking down into the abyss. In despair and agony, he tried to decide what to do… then he felt how he was falling, and finally, he screamed, screamed, screamed…

A light went on, a voice was calling him from far away, and he felt how someone was touching him. He tried to push the person – or whatever it was – away, his whole body was aching, his head was rolling from one side to the other, he was panting, gasping for air… and suddenly, there was the voice again, clearer now… “Richard… Richard, wake up! Wake up, you’re having a nightmare!” With a sudden start, he opened his eyes, confused and scared, and stared into Camille’s worried brown eyes.

Camille helped him to sit up. She saw the terror in his face, and impulsively, she put her arms around him and pulled him close. She felt him breathing heavily, one of her hands stroked his heaving shoulders, and she murmured “It’s all good, Richard, you’re safe. You had a nightmare… come on… I’m here, I won’t let anybody hurt you…”

He buried his head in her hair, his breath was ragged and he swallowed hard, trying to suppress a sob and regain his composure. His skin was covered in sweat, his hair was damp and tousled, and his stubble was scratchy against her neck, but she didn’t let him go. “Don’t let me fall… Please don’t let me fall…” he panted hoarsely. His voice was shaky, and he clearly struggled to breathe normally.

Camille held him and whispered gently “No, no, of course not… I’ll hold you… You’re entirely safe with me…” The desolation and distress in his voice touched her, and without thinking, she began to rock him back and forth, like a child. He didn’t resist or fight her off…

After several minutes he had calmed down a little, and she let him sink back into the cushions, holding his hands. He sat there, his eyes closed, squeezing her fingers. For long moments, they just sat like that, in silence. Finally, he opened his eyes again, looked at her and said “My… That was not very manly, huh…” His voice sounded exhausted, belying the apparent lightness of his remark.

She couldn’t help but smile – that was just so typical of him… trying to save the situation with a wisecrack. “Never mind,” she responded, “I know how real those nightmares can appear – they can be very scary and easily reduce us to a sobbing pile of flesh – nobody’s immune to the elementary and primal fear that they bring, so don’t feel bad for your reaction…”

Then, when he didn’t say anything, she asked “Would you like a cup of tea? I could certainly do with a nightcap now, but don’t fancy anything alcoholic at this point, and you shouldn’t drink any booze, anyway, so…”

He gave a faint nod, obviously still a little shaken, and she gently disengaged her fingers from his hands and got up. “I’ll be right back,” she said and darted into the kitchen.

She put on the kettle and replayed the last fifteen minutes in her head – she had woken up when he had screamed; rushing into the bedroom and trying to wake him up had been a matter of seconds. It had been scary to see him like that – and the desperate way he had clung to her had been touching and frightening at the same time. Well, at least she had managed to give him some comfort. He had clearly relaxed in her arms. Actually, she mused, it had felt good to hold him like that.

When she caught her thoughts going into this particular direction, she shook her head and chided herself for being silly. Really, what was she thinking? He was ill, and he had just had a nightmare… this surely wasn’t the moment for entertaining thoughts and feelings like that…

With two mugs of tea, she returned to the bedroom. She gave him his tea and sat in the armchair, trying to think of something to say… It was hard to find a harmless topic, given the circumstances.

Against all odds, he seemed to want to talk about what had happened, though. He looked at the mug in his hands, took a deep breath and said “Well, if I ever needed a mug of tea, then it’s now… Wow, that was horrifying. As it always is, actually…”

They both were silent for a moment, then she asked “It wasn’t the first time?” He took a sip of tea and said “No, it wasn’t. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does it isn’t very pleasant…”

She smiled at this blatant understatement, and he added “Although I must admit that it was particularly overpowering this time… I reckon… I reckon that the fever doesn’t help.”

“No,” she conceded, “I think you’re right – the fever surely doesn’t help.”

“You’re not going to…?” He looked at her directly now with pleading eyes, and she shook her head. “No,” she said, “I’m not going to talk about it to anyone, except for Dr Paulette, if necessary. But again, Richard, nightmares are nothing to be ashamed of. We all have them from time to time. I’m just glad that I was here to wake you up…”

She noticed that he had finished his tea, got up and asked “Do you want to go back to sleep now?” He nodded hesitantly and put the mug on the nightstand. His eyes were big and bright – and she detected a hint of worry in them, too.

“Mind if I stay until you’re asleep?” she asked softly, remembering how she had jokingly asked him if he wanted company after she and Dwayne had caught Curtis’s snake in his house… he had looked a bit shaken then, but compared to what she had just witnessed, it had been nothing.

She half-expected him to say he didn’t need her, but he shook his head and said haltingly “No, not at all. In fact… I’d like that very much.”

And so it happened that Camille turned down the lights in the bedroom, except for the small nightlight close to the door, sat in the armchair, and waited in the dark until she heard that Richard was breathing deeply and peacefully…


	6. Perspectives and Wishes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're still reading this. It's been really quiet around here, so... Anyway, enjoy this chapter!

It was a good thing that it was Saturday, Camille mused as she stretched out in her comfy bed, yawning and idly sliding her left foot over the crisp sheet beneath her. It had been around 3 a.m. when she had finally returned to the guestroom, and it had taken her a while to fall asleep. Mixed feelings and contradicting thoughts had kept her awake for some time – Richard’s nightmare and his strong reaction had caught her off-guard.

She hadn’t expected all this when she had decided that she would take care of him while he was ill, and naturally, she had started to wonder now if maybe she had bitten off more than she could chew by taking him into her house. But then again, she could not possibly let him down at this point. Not only didn’t he have any place to go – he could only return to his shack where he’d be alone and go through the issues that the fever would bring along all by himself – but also, it would be a horrible thing to do, and she would feel awfully guilty. Not to mention that it would prove his theory that you couldn’t trust people because they would betray you anyway, eventually, and their work relationship as well as their friendship – or whatever it was that they shared - would go straight down the drain, without any chance of getting rekindled. No, she could not pull back now.

And if she was honest, she didn’t want to… she had gained some unexpected, valuable insights into his personality, and she felt that she was beginning to understand him better. No, she didn’t want to back out.

As she had lay awake, listening to the constant faint noise of the air condition, she had realised that one prominent reason for her decision to take him in had also been that she had wanted to get closer to him. She had had somewhat fancy and romantic (and most likely completely unrealistic!) ideas about how grateful he would be and how they would spend ‘quality’ time together – and how he would realise that she wasn’t as bossy and stroppy as he thought she was. What other feelings, expectations and (mis)conceptions she might have had beyond this, she couldn’t really pinpoint – and she had failed to come up with a vision for what would (or could) come out of the whole thing after all what had happened over the past days and nights.

Eventually, though, she had decided that she’d just take one day after another. If nothing else, they would come out of this with a better understanding for each other, and this would make their friendship stronger. She had figured that a strong friendship was a good start – and whatever would develop beyond that, she’d take as a bonus.

So, she had fallen asleep some time in the wee hours, and when her alarm buzzed at 9 a.m. – which was later than she usually got up on weekends – she just ignored it, pulled up the sheets and dug her nose deeply into the pillow.

Half an hour later, she stirred again, and fifteen minutes after that, she had finally mustered up the energy to get up.

***************

Richard had woken up at around eight already, but fallen asleep again soon afterwards. He had felt like a lorry had hit him, and he had sensed that the fever had risen again. Camille had left the thermometre on the nightstand, but he hadn’t had the energy to check his temperature.

When Camille checked on him at around ten, she found him sleeping – he was restless, though. She figured that the nightmare had caused a relapse and decided to let him sleep.

Quietly, she had her breakfast, then she had a look into the laundry bin and realised that it couldn’t hurt to get on with her usual chores. She sorted clothes, household linen and other pieces into different baskets, then she picked up the basket with towels and bedlinen, went to the annex of the house and loaded the washer. She was glad not to have the washer and dryer in the kitchen or the bathroom – instead, there was a little utility room in an annex – so she didn’t have to deal with the noise and hassle that the appliances could cause. And if the washer ever decided to flood, it wouldn’t happen in the house – that was clearly an advantage of the annex.

About an hour later, she felt that it was time for Richard to get up and maybe take a shower. Perhaps he’d feel like shaving, too – he was beginning to look a little scruffy. Personally, she didn’t mind the beard – she wasn’t used to it, but it actually didn’t look bad on him. Considering how important it was to him to look neat and tidy, though, she figured he might want to get rid of it.

So, she went into the bedroom, opened the shutters just enough to let in the light and took a peek at Richard. He appeared hot and bothered, and she could see a sheen of sweat on his forehead. How uncomfortable that looked! Concerned, she shook her head, turned around and left the room. A few minutes later, she returned with a bowl of warm water, a washcloth and a towel that she put on the nightstand.

She sat on the bedside and gently touched Richard’s shoulder. He stirred lightly and murmured something incoherent, and when she made him turn over she saw that his eyes were glazed over. His groan showed her that he was doing worse than yesterday, and she wasn’t sure if he recognised her. His body seemed tense, and his forehead was hot. Strangely enough, his skin seemed almost dry, despite the heat that was literally radiating off him – she would have expected him to be more sweaty.

Tenderly, she began to wash his face, murmuring soothing words of reassurance, and he sighed, relaxing under her touch. Camille thought sarcastically that she was slowly turning into a second Florence Nightingale – but somehow, she didn’t mind taking care of him like that. She unbuttoned his pyjama jacket and helped him out of the garment – that was more difficult than expected because his movements were so slow and erratic. As she gently scrubbed his arms, his flanks and then his chest, he sighed again and murmured “so good…”

She smiled and toweled him down, then she helped him to put on a fresh pyjama jacket. It was a different pattern (well, it was striped, too – but the stripes were blue and green, not blue and maroon, and they had a different width), but he’d have to live with that until he was fit enough to take a shower and wash himself. She couldn’t possibly wash more than his face and his upper body. Not only did she feel shy about touching him… washing his torso already seemed almost indecent when he was only half-conscious at best, and of course, he’d never forgive her if she went beyond that…

“It’s been way too long since I last saw a man in my bed”, she thought with a wistful smile as she looked at his face with the closed eyes. She let her eyes roam from his not-overly-hairy chest over his stomach and down to the elastic waistband of his pyjama trousers where the smattering of hair disappeared.... He didn’t look bad at all – what a shame that he hadn’t learnt how to emphasise his positive features… Really, what a waste… He was well-proportioned, and if he didn’t insist on wearing those unbecoming old-fashioned suits, he’d look a lot smarter and more handsome… Ah well… With determination, she began buttoning up the pyjama jacket. Pointless to dwell on this, really…

Contrary to what some people thought, Camille wasn’t a man-eating vamp. Actually, it had been a while since she had had a relationship with a man… There had been a couple of more or less disappointing experiences in France, and when she had returned to the Caribbean, she hadn’t even wanted to try any more for a while. It was not that she didn’t wish for a companion, for someone to love and share life’s ups and downs with… it was more that she had given up on finding someone who’d let her be herself. Despite all her coquettishness and flirtatious behaviour, she wasn’t an easy catch – she knew very well when to withdraw, and the longer she had been on her own, the less willing she’d been to make dubious, foul compromises.

She soaked the washcloth once more, wrung it out and gently dabbed his forehead, smiling as he sighed again. For another moment, she looked at his face – he seemed a little less bothered and restless now. Finally, she got up, carelessly threw the towel over her shoulder and put away the bowl and the washcloth. Time to get on with her laundry…

**************

As Camille was busy ironing a blouse a little later, she noticed that her phone buzzed. She frowned when she recognised Dr Paulette’s number and answered the call with an apprehensive feeling.

“Hello - Dr Paulette?” she asked. “Hi Camille… how’s our English patient doing today?” Camille had to laugh at the reference and replied “He’s still asleep – well, dozing, I’d say. He was doing fairly okay yesterday, all circumstances considered, but had a bad night, so I let him sleep in. I gave him a bit of a cat’s lick a little while ago as he seemed very hot and bothered, and I noticed his skin was very dry. I don’t know what to make of it.”

“Hmmm,” Dr Paulette sounded thoughtful. “Has he been delirious or hallucinating?” “Well, he didn’t always recognise me instantly,” Camille replied, “and I wouldn’t say he was lucid all the time – it sometimes changed from one moment to the next. But overall, I’d say he knew who he is and he understood where he is – which is more than I had initially expected. And he has eaten – oh, thanks for the hint about _bouillon_ , for that matter – that worked very well!”

“You mentioned a bad night – any nightmares?” Dr Paulette asked. “Well…” Camille was a bit reluctant to talk about this, but then she decided the doctor should know and said “Yes, but I managed to wake him up, and he was entirely clear afterwards, so…”

“Right, I see,” Dr Paulette said. “Nightmares aren’t uncommon when people have a strong fever like this.” She paused for a moment before she went on “Well, you know, I wanted to inform you that I have the results of the blood tests, and it’s neither Dengue nor Chikungunya. It seems that he’s basically exhausted – mentally, physically or both - the heat did him in, and he caught some virus. It’s a bit like a bout of the influenza. With some luck, he’ll be over it by the end of next week – this weekend will most likely bring the peak of the fever, after that, he should improve, though there’ll perhaps be the occasional setback. He might get the chills as part of the symptoms – the dry skin could indicate that he’s on the way to that. The blood sample didn’t show any hints of bacteria, so sepsis can be ruled out, and he won’t need antibiotics, either.”

Camille let out a sigh of relief. That was good news.

Dr Paulette continued “If he gets the chills, a hot bath would be an old house remedy – if you can’t provide that, one or two good old hot water bottles could help, an extra blanket – everything to keep him warm. I know, that sounds counterproductive to the fever, but that’s how it works. And of course, you still have the antipyretics, those should help, too. He might then break out in a huge sweat, and typically, the patients fall asleep once that’s overcome. After that, it usually gets much better. If it develops differently and you feel you can’t handle it, Dr Steve and I will be on call this weekend…”

Camille thanked her, despite feeling more and more worried, and they exchanged a bit more chit-chat before they hung up. The conversation had disturbed her a little – she would have to go back to work on Tuesday, and if Richard wasn’t much better by then, she would get into a bit of a mess. The Commissioner most likely wouldn’t agree to her taking any more leave as Fidel and Dwayne shouldn’t really be left to handle the station without a senior officer for more than just a few days. By the same token, she wouldn’t be happy to leave Richard all alone if he still was miserable. Her mother couldn’t take care of him because she couldn’t spare more than one or two hours a day, either – so it would get difficult.

But it was only Saturday now. There still was time… and maybe he’d be doing better soon. She’d know by Monday morning, she figured – and then she could try and think up a possible Plan B.

*************

Richard felt the light touch of Camille’s hand on his shoulder and reluctantly opened his eyes as he heard her saying his name. He still felt rather groggy, and he was very thirsty. He also was hot, but not as sweaty as he had felt before. Slightly disoriented, he noticed that daylight came into the room – Camille had half-opened the shutters, and the sun painted light squiggles and patterns on the wall opposite the bed.

“What… what time is it?” he asked. She set a tray on the nightstand and replied “Around noon. I got up a little later today… it’s Saturday, and I slept in. You were fast asleep when I checked on you, so I thought I’d let you get some rest… How are you feeling?”

“Run over,” he said. “I - I woke up at some point and felt like a lorry had hit me, and everything was aching. It’s better now, though I still feel very hot, and my shoulder aches… but that might be because I slept on it…”

She nodded and said “Here’s food for you – I hope you’re okay with tea, toast and cherry jam? And I have a fruit smoothie for you so you’ll get some vitamins and don’t have to stick to drinking tea and water all the time. That gets a bit boring, doesn’t it? But before you’ll eat, let me check your temperature…” She handed him the thermometre, and he slipped it under his arm, observing that he apparently wore a different pyjama.

Camille noticed his confusion and explained matter-of-factly “You were hot and bothered when I last checked on you, and so I gave your upper body a quick wash and rinse, and I thought it would be nicer for you to have a fresh pyjama jacket. I didn’t… I mean… you might want to take a shower tonight or tomorrow morning and then change your nightwear, but for now that seemed the most practical solution.”

He seemed dead-embarrassed as he began to mutter some kind of ‘thank you’, but Camille just shrugged it off and said “Never mind - you were clearly uncomfortable, and I felt you shouldn’t suffer like that…”

When he handed her the thermometre, she said “Right. Your fever hasn’t gone down, it’s actually slightly worse again. But the doctor warned me that this might happen, and she said it’s no reason to get alarmed. So I suggest you’ll eat your breakfast, and we’ll see what you’ll feel up to afterwards…”

He took a bite of his toast and said surprised “That’s not as sweet as I thought it would be…” Camille smiled and said “It’s morello cherry. I thought you might like something else for a change – hopefully, you like it.” He didn’t answer, but the toast was gone soon. The boiled egg disappeared quickly, too. And finally, he tried the smoothie that she had whipped up – she knew he stuck to bananas most of the time, but she had wanted to add some variety to his menu, so she had thrown several sorts of fruit into the blender, including mango, and he actually seemed to like it.

She sat in the armchair and watched him having his food.

When he was finished, he looked up and said “That was lovely. Thank you very much, Camille.” She just smiled at him. He leant back into the cushions and closed his eyes. Without opening them again he continued “I have no clue why you’re doing all this for me… I have hardly given you any reason for being so kind and caring towards me…”

She remained silent for a moment, not quite sure if she should answer with a quick joke or in a more serious way… She decided for the former, and when he opened his eyes again, curious why she didn’t respond, she tilted her head to one side and said with a twinkle in her eyes “You know, Richard, it’s just that I like to see you in your pyjamas. That’s worth all the trouble…”

With that, she got up, took away the plate and left the bedroom, not without giving him another provocative glance over her shoulder. He couldn’t help it, he just had to laugh. She was really impossible. Whatever her reasons might be, he figured he’d best enjoy his stay as long as it lasted… Maybe, with time, he’d find out why she was so generous… and maybe, with time, she’d realise that he wasn’t the gloomy misanthrope that he appeared to be. He wanted her to understand that he just wasn’t experienced when it came to friendships and relationships in general – it wasn’t so much that he didn’t want to have friends, he just had no social skills. For the longest time, it hadn’t bothered him – but recently he had become painfully aware of it… He was tired of being the outsider – but what to do about it?

Well, he was too tired to think about it now – but the idea that perhaps this illness would help them to get a better understanding for each other was surprisingly appealing and comforting to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully, I got the medical stuff right. If not - forgive me and file it under artistic liberty!


	7. Turning a Corner

Sunday arrived, and as Richard woke up and shifted in bed, his foot touched a mysterious, soft item. It was warm and made strange, softly gurgling noises as he carefully kicked it a little. For a moment, he couldn’t put it into context, then he realised that it was a hot water bottle – it wasn’t hot any more now, but still slightly warmish. He also noticed the extra blanket that was crumpled by the foot of the bed. Oh, and there was another blanket… or rather a quilt. Had that been there before? He frowned for a moment, then the memory came back…

After his breakfast the day before – which he had actually had around noon – he had slept for a while, then he had woken up again and read a little in bed after a trip to the bathroom that also had involved brushing his teeth and washing his face. Camille had brought him a few books that she thought might interest him – one was about the history of the island of Saint Marie, there was another one about Caribbean architecture and how its unique colourful style had evolved over time under the influence of the various colonizers, and yet another one dealt with the flora and fauna of Guadeloupe and the other islands in the archipelago. They all were a nice mix of text and pictures, so he hadn’t found it too hard to focus on them.

After a while, he had put the books to the side, though, as he just couldn’t concentrate any more. He had been very thirsty, and Camille had brought him lots of water, spiced up with lemon slices. She had sat down to talk a little with him, but after a while, he had dozed off. He had woken up again because he had felt cold – which was illogical and complete nonsense because he had felt that his skin was hot, and he clearly had a temperature.

After that, his memory got a bit blurry. He recalled that Camille had made him drink tea and water, and she had spread an extra fleece blanket over the sheets. The next thing he knew was that he had felt colder yet, his teeth had been chattering, and his entire body had been aching and shivering with the chills. He had felt miserable and wanted to die. Camille had brought a hot water bottle. She had brought the quilted bedcover and spread it over the bed. Another hot water bottle had been added later, he remembered he had even hugged it for a while because he had felt so cold. Where was it now? Oh, who cared… it would show up again eventually. - Camille had talked to him, soothingly. What she had said – Richard didn’t know. It had sounded tender and reassuring, though, and his misery had appeared a bit more bearable.

He had no clue how long this all had gone on.

Eventually, though, he had felt a little better and then had fallen asleep, and he had had a weird dream. Not a nightmare this time, but something crazy, confusing, bewildering. He remembered how he had woken up with a start, feeling sweaty and wretched, but his head had been slightly clearer – after the initial blur had disappeared. Camille had been there, gently touching his forehead and wiping off the sweat. She had given him another tablet and something to drink – and he had fallen asleep again.

He remembered that he had had another dream then. This time, though, despite the inevitable incoherence that was usually inherent to his dreams, it had been something pleasant. A garden hat been involved, he knew that much. He had no clue whether it had been a garden he knew or purely a figment of his imagination. There had been flowers everywhere, and he seemed to recall several fruit trees, too. He had felt warm – but not uncomfortably hot – and safe, and a faint, fresh scent of something fruity – or floral? He couldn’t pinpoint it… - had enveloped him. It had been a vaguely familiar scent – but what exactly it had been – he didn’t know.

He racked his brains to bring more light into the dream and come up with more details. But it was useless – he had no idea what had made him feel so good. In any case, the warm, comfortable, safe feeling had remained – and while he still felt weak now, it was like the fog had lifted from his brain, and he generally felt clearer, less erratic, more focused.

Camille had been right after all – all would be well once he had overcome the shivers. He knew she had said that – she had repeated it several times, and it had been etched into his brain, like a mantra, like something to hold on to…

He would have to tell her that she had been right – she’d love that. He smiled – she could be such a pain in the neck, but she had been so good to him over the past few days… He realised that he was hungry, and he hoped that Camille would come to bring him breakfast soon. But before she came, he would get comfortable in bed again and revel a little in the warm, pleasant feeling he had enjoyed so much…

***************

Camille didn’t want to get up. She was shattered. This had been the third restless night in a row, and she felt wiped out. Looking after someone who was seriously ill was indeed hard work. She hoped that Dr Paulette had been right with her prognosis, and Richard would feel better soon. Just as she had predicted, he had got the chills yesterday evening. Camille had looked up all the symptoms on the internet after Dr Paulette had explained that Richard might have to get over the shivers as part of his fever, and everything Dr Paulette had said had been described there in detail. So, when Richard had become unfocused and complained about feeling cold, she had been prepared.

Still, she had felt rather helpless and frustrated – it had gone on for hours… while he hadn’t been delirious or hallucinating, he had clearly been in a blur, and his occasional outbursts of anger and frustration about feeling so miserable, along with incoherent laments about the pain in his body had been quite a test for her. The predominating feeling had been helplessness – and it had been mixed with impatience, frustration and worry.

As she turned over in her bed, tired and exhausted, trying to ignore her responsibilities and hide under the sheets and pillows, she suddenly remembered something, and a happy little smile appeared on her face.

She had followed Dr Paulette’s advice to give Richard water, tea and an antipyretic tablet, provide a hot water bottle (actually, she had even provided two of those!) and extra blankets and generally keep him warm… and he had obviously felt a lot more comfortable thanks to her efforts… But still, he had been somewhat restless.

When he hadn’t stopped murmuring in his sleep and kept tossing and turning, she had been desperate. For a brief moment, she had felt defeated - he’d have another horrible night, and he’d never recover…

Then a thought had crossed her mind, and impulsively, she had acted – she had turned down the lights and carefully crawled into the bed to warm and pacify Richard with her body. She had snuggled up to his back, let her hand gently wander over his thigh, upwards to his hip and waist and then put an arm around him, resting her hand on his chest. The result had been spectacular – within an instant, he had calmed down, cuddled up to her and let out a small sigh. He had not woken up, but after a few moments, he had breathed more calmly, and there hadn’t been any more restlessness.

She had felt hot and uncomfortable – the combination of two hot water bottles, the light duvet, two blankets and Richard’s febrile body had made for a sauna – but she had not moved away. ‘He needs me now…’ - that had been her last conscious thought before she had dozed off, despite the incommodious situation…

After a while, though, she had woken up again, and she had figured she’d better withdraw – he was obviously sleeping well now, and she didn’t want him to find her in bed with him. Even if nothing unrespectable had happened (apart from her hand having gone a little astray, as she hardly admitted to herself… but she hadn’t touched him indecently…) - she hadn’t wanted to take any chances – it would be better to avoid a potentially awkward situation! So, she had carefully retreated, tucked in the sheets and straightened the blankets around him and quietly left the room.

***************

Richard woke up again as the doorbell rang insistently. He was trying to decide whether or not he felt good enough to get up and answer the door – not that it was his house, but Camille apparently hadn’t heard the bell - when he heard the noise of shuffling feet and a barely suppressed yawn, followed by a groan.

Uh-oh. Sergeant Bordey wasn’t in tip-top condition, as it seemed.

Instantly, he felt guilty – now that he was doing better, he realised that Camille surely had suffered quite a bit over the past few days. If he had counted correctly, that had been the third disrupted night, and while she had never said anything, common sense told him that this couldn’t be duck soup for her, either. She had been there for him around the clock, basically she had been available at his beck and call, and she had never been snappy or impatient with him. This surely was a challenging situation for her. Again, he wondered why she was doing all this for him…

He pricked his ears to twig what was going on in the corridor… there was Camille’s voice, and there was another familiar-sounding female voice – ah, it was Catherine! Unfortunately, they spoke a mix of French and English, as they did habitually when they were talking privately, and Richard didn’t quite get everything they were saying, but he got the tension in the conversation and the slightly reproachful tone of Catherine’s voice. Camille sounded conscience-stricken (although Richard didn’t know if that was real or just a very masterful example for Camille’s acting talent), but determined not to let her mother get the upper hand.

The two women had moved from the corridor to the open living room, and their voices were more muffled now, so Richard gave up on his efforts to eavesdrop. He just hoped that he wouldn’t have to face Catherine… Of course, he wasn’t afraid of her, it was just that he didn’t feel fit enough for an encounter with Camille’s resolute mother. All in all, she had always been friendly to him (although she had been very offended when he had told her precisely how he had felt about the soup… admittedly, his judgement had been very harsh… so it had partly been his fault that their relationship hadn’t been so great for a while), but she had a very overwhelming personality, and he just felt too weak to deal with her at this point.

After a little while he noticed with some relief that Camille ushered her mother out of the house again… the door closed behind Catherine, and he heard how Camille let out a big sigh. He couldn’t help but grin. When he heard her steps getting closer to the door, he hastily cuddled into the pillow again and pretended to be asleep.

*******************

Camille stepped into the shower and heaved another big sigh. Fortunately, Richard had slept through Catherine’s visit. Her mother hadn’t been too happy that Camille hadn’t been to Sunday morning mass _again_ , and she figured she’d better check on her… When Camille had opened the door, still in her nightshirt, her hair mussed and her eyes hardly open, Catherine had been a little shocked, and a well-meant tirade had followed that Camille had not really listened to. She had been too tired. The part about missing morning mass basically had rushed by without reaching her brain, and she had had trouble making the suitable guilt-stricken noises and saying the right things.

However, it had not escaped her that her mother felt that she shouldn’t walk around in her nightwear at this time in the morning, let alone while a strange man was staying in the house…

Her comment that Richard hardly was a stranger and had seen her in a bikini and in shorts and clearly knew what her legs looked like hadn’t gone down too well… Catherine had arched her eyebrows and admonished her daughter never to forget that her boss was ‘just a man’, after all. Camille had replied tiredly that at the moment, Richard was first and foremost a very ill man, and if he noticed her at all, it was mostly because she brought him food and made his misery more bearable.

Eventually, her mother had left again, not without caressing Camille’s cheek and pointing out that she only wanted the best for her.

A quick glance at the clock showed Camille that she’d better get moving now. Hopefully, Richard would feel better today – Dr Paulette had said that if he got over the shivers, his condition should improve considerably… Honestly, this was beginning to wear her out… But then again, it wasn’t his fault. He was ill, and she knew she had done the right thing by taking him into her house and looking after him. The very thought of him being all alone in his shack, going through pain, nightmares and delirious phases made her cringe – he might be a nitpicky, childish idiot sometimes, but he didn’t deserve being abandoned like that…

As she was brushing her teeth a few minutes later she remembered how calm he had become within minutes after she had snuggled up to him. It had felt good to have him so close – despite the uncomfortable heat. She giggled at the memory of her mother’s consternation when she had mentioned that Richard only noticed her in the context of bringing him food and comfort. Really, that had been too funny. But she had just stated the facts – Richard clearly wasn’t in a state of mind where he’d be interested in ogling (or anything beyond that). Not that he had ever really ogled her – well, if he had, she hadn’t noticed. But currently, he had no energy left for that sort of thing, anyway… Maybe in a few days, when he was on the road of recovery…

She threw her nightie into the laundry bin, wrapped a towel around her body and opened the bathroom door…

******************

Richard had listened to the sound of Camille’s steps in the corridor, then he heard the water running, shortly afterwards a blowdryer began to whir. It was kind of soothing to listen to all these noises, and he realised how much he actually enjoyed this. He had lived on his own for so long – it surprised him that he didn’t mind not being by himself now. But then again – without Camille, the past few days would have been tough, and it was good to know that it mattered to someone how he was doing. Lately, he had sometimes felt a little lonely, thinking that it made no difference to anyone whether he was dead or alive… He didn’t have morose thoughts like that very often, but every once in a while they came up, and Camille’s care and attention had done him good – not only in the context of his current illness. If she looked after him like that, it meant that he mattered to her – and, in a strange way, that made him happy.

The monotonous sound of the blowdryer lulled him to a light sleep – and he nodded off again for a few minutes. When he woke up again with a start because the noise had stopped, he figured that Camille would most likely show up with his breakfast soon, so he’d better get up and brush his teeth… now that he felt a little better, she wouldn’t have to help him any more to get up and move over the corridor. Carefully, he sat up and swung his legs out of the bed. The bedside rug was fluffy and warm, and he enjoyed the feel of it on his soles before putting on his slippers.

He got up, and as he moved his feet, he touched something sitting on the floor… Ah, there was the second hot water bottle… he had obviously chucked it out some time during the night. He shoved it to the side so it was next to the nightstand and he wouldn’t step on it accidentally later on.

As he was about to step into the corridor, the bathroom door opened, and Camille came out, her hair pinned up, a bright yellow bathtowel around her body – and totally oblivious of his presence. The door was ajar and she didn’t notice him as she walked down the corridor to her room. Richard’s eyes went over her long, long legs, over her well-shaped bottom and slim waist to her beautiful bare shoulders and the smooth arms, and he suddenly remembered how good it had felt when she had held him after that awful nightmare… How good it had felt to have her sitting by his side, holding his hands… How good it had felt to know that she’d stay with him until he’d have fallen asleep…

When he noticed the direction that his thoughts were taking, he shook his head in an attempt to drive them away… it was pointless to dwell on all that. He’d better get moving and make himself a little more presentable – he was fed up with being scruffy and unkempt.


	8. Making Progress

Sunday evening came, and Camille had every reason to be extremely pleased with the progress that Richard had made.

His fever had gone down, he had showered and shaved, and he had been lucid and fairly focused all day long. When she had brought him breakfast, he had already brushed his teeth, and afterwards he had asked for a towel and fresh nightwear. He had originally wanted to get changed into regular clothes, but then he had realised that he still felt slightly ill, so he had taken Camille’s advice and put on a fresh pyjama.

He had sat down in the armchair while she had changed the sheets – she had suggested he’d sit in the living room, but he hadn’t wanted that. “Want to make sure I’m doing it right, huh?” she had joked as he had sat there and watched her. They had exchanged a little harmless banter, and she had giggled about his deadpan remarks and ‘helpful household hints’ – and retorted accordingly. It was good to see that he was doing so much better. And it was fun having him around.

Actually, Richard hadn’t wanted to sit by himself. Being around Camille now that he could really appreciate her presence had been too much fun. He had enjoyed watching her – her movements were smooth and energetic, and when she wasn’t acting provocatively towards him, she was actually good company.

So, he had happily waited for her to get finished with putting on new bedding while he was sitting around and making conversation with her.

The fresh nightwear and bedlinen had lifted his spirits, and he had enjoyed sitting in bed, reading and listening to Camille rummaging around in the house. In the afternoon he had got a little bored, though, so he had put on his robe and ventured into the living room where he had found her ironing and folding tops, blouses and trousers. Camille being busy with domestic affairs had been an unexpected sight – and the incredulous expression on his face had made her laugh out loud.

They had skipped lunch as it already had been rather late, but Camille had come up with apple pie and tea – it had turned out that Catherine had brought several slices when she had popped in earlier, so at least something good had come out of her brief visit.

They had talked about the books that Camille had brought him and got into an interesting discussion about architecture. Of course, Richard was convinced that English architecture was superior, but Camille had given him a few examples for outstanding French architecture – and in the end they had agreed that it was stalemate. Their discussion had been friendly and a lot less argumentative than others they had had in the past, and they both had been ready to make compromises – Camille hadn’t even insisted on having the last word. She had told herself that she was too tired to argue – but in fact, she’d realised that he had a few good points with what he said, and it had seemed silly to quarrel.

Later on, Camille had made him sit down and peel potatoes for dinner while she had washed lettuce, cut onions and tomatoes and prepared a salad. Then she had made him go and sit in the living room while she had finished dinner preparations behind closed doors… He had been stunned when she had served him steak and potato wedges, with salad on the side. The steak had been excellent, and the potato wedges had been well-seasoned, but not extremely spicy - just the way he liked them.

For some reason he hadn’t expected her to be such a good cook. He had definitely learnt a lot about Camille during these few days… and she kept surprising him.

For the first time since his arrival in Camille’s house, he had felt fit enough to sit and eat at the table with her. They hadn’t talked much – Richard still had been a little tired, and Camille had struggled to keep her eyes open.

She hated to admit it, but the past few days – and nights! - had showed her where her limits were.

She began to understand Juliet’s occasional complaints about being done in by taking care of Rosie, getting house chores done, looking after the dog, entertaining family and friends - and keeping Fidel happy. “And keeping Fidel happy is the easiest of all these,” she had said. “He’s happy when he sees me smile. He doesn’t throw up in the middle of the night or bark for no reason, and I don’t have to admonish him for his table manners, either…”

Camille had laughed about this, but she hadn’t been able to relate. Now, she looked at things differently. Admittedly, Richard had been very ill, and she had no experience in looking after sick people. But then again, Rosie was a small child, and Juliet hadn’t had any experience in being a parent – so in a way, they were even…

Of course, Juliet was younger…

When she had come to that point, Camille had sighed.

Richard had looked up from his plate and asked “What’s the matter?” Camille had shrugged and said “Oh, I guess I just noticed how tired I am – and it’s back to work soon…” He had given her a sideways glance and said “Tomorrow?”

She had shaken her head and said “No, not tomorrow. Fortunately, I’ll have another day off before returning to work, but I’ll definitely have to go back on Tuesday…” She had looked at him and thought she’d see a hint of disappointment in his eyes – as if he didn’t want their ‘togetherness’ to end.

But surely that could only be wishful thinking… As far as she was concerned – it had been an exhausting weekend, but for some weird reason, she didn’t want it to end, either.

He had cleared his throat and said in an attempt to appear heroic “Well, I guess I’m doing well enough to get by on my own now… so if it’s okay with you, I’ll return to my house some time tomorrow.”

She had played with her fork and said thoughtfully “You can do that, of course.”

His heart had sunk. He had admitted to himself that he enjoyed being together with her, and of course this house offered amenities that his shack didn’t have, but how could he impose himself on her like that any longer now… She had already done so much for him. She surely was desperate to get rid of him by now… It would be best to retreat – before she’d tell him to leave.

Much to his surprise, she had continued, “But I don’t think it’s a good idea. You’ve just overcome that nasty fever, and there’s a slight chance that it might return. Dr Paulette said that it would be good if you didn’t stay completely on your own until later this week – Thursday or Friday. Of course, I could come round for an hour every evening, or one of the boys could pop in after work and see how you’re doing, but what if you wake up with a bout of the fever and can’t help yourself?”

Of course, it was silly. He’d see right through this and realise that she wanted to keep him here at all cost. What would he make of that? And really, how mortifying – was she really being that needy? He had never done anything to make her think he’d want to be with her – as a friend or whatever… He’d make a scathing remark in a second – embarrassing her and making her look stupid…

But then she had heard him say “Hmmm. You’ve got a point. Today’s the first day I’ve been feeling human again, and it might be wise to wait and see how things develop over the next few days. So, if Dr Paulette finds it advisable… and if it’s no problem for you…”

“No, no,” she had hastened to reply, “I’m fine with that. I can come home during my lunch break and see how you’re doing, and you’ll have all the peace and quiet you’ll need. You seem to be on the mend, and if things continue to go well, then fine – and if any problems or relapses occur, then I’ll be there to look after you without delay… But let’s see what Dr Paulette says – she’ll come round to have a look at you tomorrow afternoon…”

Dr Paulette could surely be convinced that it would be best not to let the patient return to his shack where he would be left to his own devices… Each of them had been relieved – and tried not to show it.

Richard had secretly congratulated himself to not playing the hero, but admitting to feeling a little weak – so he could stay where he was. He hadn’t lost face… there wasn’t anything wrong with feeling ‘off’ after a bad bout of fever, was there…

And Camille had felt very smug for pointing out how much better it would be for him to stay where he was – and how altruistic her motives were… She hadn’t lost face… Come to think of it, it was actually very philantropic of her to invite him to stay at her house…

In an attempt to change the subject, Richard had remarked “You know, I feel almost guilty for not thinking of Harry the lizard before now. I wonder how he might be doing.”

“Oh, he’s fine,” Camille had replied. “How do you know?” Richard had asked curiously. “Well, Fidel told me so. He drove out after work to feed him on Friday, and I know that he will do so again next week – for as long as you’ll be here. I’m afraid Harry had to get by on his own over the weekend, but Fidel had family staying over and couldn’t make the trip to your house, so he just put a huge dish of mashed mango and bugs on your veranda and hoped that Harry would be reasonable and not eat it all in one go… But given the fact that he didn’t get any food on Thursday when we brought you here, I’m optimistic that he will survive…”

Richard had been baffled. Not only had his team taken care of him – they had also remembered Harry. Harry often annoyed him, but he also was his only company at the beach shack – and in a weird way, he had grown to like him.

“You know, that’s the moment when ‘thank you’ would go down well,” Camille had reminded him, got up and then set down one leftover slice of apple pie in front of him that she had saved for dessert. Richard had blushed and stuttered “Er… sure, yes... of course! It’s just that… I didn’t expect that…”

She had sat down again, smiled at him and said “Right. I’ll take that as a ‘thank you’ then. You know, we’re not complete idiots. You’re fond of the little green fellow, and how could we forget him? Now let’s demolish that apple pie – it’s not getting any better by sitting on my kitchen counter…”

****************

They had had a quiet evening – Camille had genuinely been worn out, and Richard also had realised that he had overestimated himself a little. He had pretended to be reading, but in fact he’d been watching Camille who’d been leafing through her magazine, reading an article here or there, but apparently not being able to focus. She had looked lovely in her simple green strappy top and black gym shorts, and although he could see that she was tired, she had still looked wonderful…

How smooth her arms were, and how pretty her hair… She was definitely the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. The most difficult one, too – though not at the moment, no… right now, she was just kind and friendly. She had taken him into her house and looked after him, she had been there for him when he had felt miserable… she had even let him have her own bedroom because it would be more convenient for him than the guestroom. She had said so herself when he had asked her.

They had sat in companionable silence until Camille had let out a big yawn and said “You know, I’m dead for today. It’s bedtime for me…” He had looked at her, momentarily confused – he had been lost in thought, and her sudden remark had caught him off-guard. She had got up and said “Mind you, Richard, you do look tired, too… why don’t you get ready for bed? I’ll tidy up around here and then will come to say good night, if that’s okay for you. If I sit here for another minute, I’ll nod off, and that seems quite pointless, doesn’t it…”

He had got up obediently, but felt a little shaky – Camille had noticed and come to his side in an instant to steady him. “Here – is that better?” She had held his arm for a moment before letting go.

“Good grief,” he had said, “I’m still wobbly. This is so annoying…” She had smiled and said “Patience, Richard. This is your first good day – it takes time to recover from a fever.”

“Oh, I know,” he had responded with a half smile, “but it still annoys me. And you know I’m not very patient to begin with…”

Camille had given him a quick sideways glance. It was unusual for him to say anything remotely self-critical like that. She had decided to ignore it – had he been healthy and fit, she wouldn’t have hesitated to come up with a suitable retort, but it hadn’t seemed appropriate under the given circumstances.

A few minutes later he’d been settled in bed. He had decided to read a little before getting ready for the night. Camille had stuck her head into the room and asked “Would you like a mug of tea? I mean, I’ll have one before doing my teeth, so if you want one, too…”

She had changed into a fresh nightshirt while the kettle was on, and shortly afterwards, she had entered the bedroom with two mugs of tea. She had handed him one and then established herself in the armchair, pulling up her feet so she could sit cross-legged.

“Isn’t that like having a pyjama party?” Her question had come unexpectedly. He had looked at her and remarked “Oh, is it? I don’t have much experience with ‘sleepovers’ and that sort of thing – obviously you get used to seeing each other in pyjamas when you attend boarding school. But if you say so, I’ll take your word for it.”

She had said teasingly “Yes, it is, and now we have to compliment each other on our respective nightwear. You already know that I like your striped pyjamas, so it’s your turn now…”

He had smiled. “Well, then… that’s a – er – lovely nightie, Camille. However, I’m surprised - I would have thought you’d rather go for another design than this…”

She had smiled back at him and replied “Do you like it? It’s a souvenir from my visit in Paris – you know, I didn’t only attend that IT course there two years ago… I went shopping, too!”

“The big department stores?” he had asked.

“Yes… Galeries Lafayette, actually! They had a sale, and it was a snip, really. All sorts of cartoon characters, from the common European ones like ‘Tintin et Milou’ or ‘Astérix le Gaulois’ over Asian ones to more ‘international ones’… including these – you don’t get to see these particular ones so often in French stores any more. They aren’t as omnipresent as Disney – or as the ones based on stuff like Toy Story, Shrek or other currently popular films. So, I was excited to see them – although I might not be part of the target group they were aiming for. Or maybe I am – at least I still remember them. I loved the cartoons when I was a kid, and I still think there’s lots of wisdom in the comic strips that you can sometimes find in the papers. Anyway… I got two for the price of one... there weren’t many left in my size, though, so I didn’t have much of a choice. You couldn’t choose the designs individually, anyway – they had assorted packages only…”

“Oh? And that’s why you ended up with this? Because you absolutely wanted the other one and couldn’t get it without taking this, too?”

“No. The other way round. I wanted this.”

She had paused and taken a generous swig of her tea, determined to make him ask for her reasons. He had taken the bait - he had looked at her incredulously and said “You’re seriously telling me you wanted _Charlie Brown_? Isn’t he a little bit too… indecisive and – er… passive? Wouldn’t Peppermint Patty or Lucy be more suitable for someone – er – determined like you? And what was the other design that you took along with this?”

An impish grin had appeared on her face, she had tilted her head to one side and replied “Oh, I got Peppermint Patty, too. That was the other design, and I’m happy with it because – as you say – it suits me. She knows what she wants, despite being a little random and chaotic… and… oh well! But I only saw that when I opened the package – it was like a surprise bag, you know. You could see one of the designs, and the other one was a surprise. I would happily have taken Lucy as well, although I think she’s even bossier than I could ever be, but there wasn’t any package that obviously contained that design. I had seen Schroeder and kind of expected him to be paired with Lucy, but I didn’t really want Schroeder – he’s a bit too selfish and wrapped up in his music… and he’s not very nice to Lucy, I think. She just gets on his nerves, and he lets her feel it. No… it really was Charlie Brown that I wanted. I like him. I’m not sure how you see him, but I figure he’s a bit of an unhappy loner – however, his friends still love him. He’s sometimes afraid of reality, and he sometimes overthinks stuff… but despite all that – or perhaps just because of that… he’s capable of great compassion. I think he’s quite a character, he always gets up again, no matter how often he falls, and… Well, he reminds me of you.”

Richard had stared at her, wide-eyed, but before he could have thrown in a word, she had continued “And you know… you let me take that course although you knew that it could cause problems with the schedule and all… so I figured having a souvenir from Paris that reminded me of you seemed like a good idea…”

She had finished her tea and got up. “Nighty-night, Richard… I’ll be done in the bathroom in five minutes, then it’s all yours!”

He had stuttered “Good night, Camille”, and before he could have said anything else, she had left the room, not without winking and waving at him.

Yes, it had been a good day, she mused as she was stretching out between the sheets. And hopefully, she had given him something to think about…

She smiled in the darkness.


	9. Advice and Insights

Richard lay awake for a while… he was somewhat confused by Camille’s words and couldn’t stop thinking about what she had said. So, she had bought a nightshirt with a design of a cartoon character who happened to be a bit of a lonesome loser - because it reminded her of him? What on earth was that supposed to mean? Or was the emphasis on the fact that this character was compassionate and friendly?

Whatever it was – she really seemed to like the pathetic little fellow. Did that mean that she liked _him_? Did that mean that she felt he was a hopeless case? Or did that mean that she pitied him and considered him being a loser, despite acknowledging his good sides?

He could certainly relate to Charlie Brown in a way.

He seemed to remember he had read somewhere that the creator of the ‘Peanuts’ cartoon characters had mentioned Charlie Brown was based on his own sometimes painful childhood.

Well, Richard wouldn’t have described his childhood as particularly sad, but he had gone through some rough patches full of despair and pain, and there hadn’t been anyone around to comfort him, so maybe that made him understand Charlie’s feelings. And he shared some prominent characteristics with Charlie Brown… his self-defeating stubbornness, his persistence to do his best against all odds – and his inferiority complex. He wouldn’t have admitted that to anybody else, but yes… he had often been the underdog, and he could sympathise with Charlie…

And Peppermint Patty on the other nightie… wasn’t she that shorts-and-sandals wearing girl, a little random, tomboyish, and athletic? She was always flirting with Charlie Brown, and poor old Charlie never knew if he deserved all the compliments she gave him… That sounded like Camille, indeed… although Camille was certainly more intelligent and less clueless than Peppermint Patty.

Still, he couldn’t decide what her point was. He couldn’t help but chuckle. How silly this all was… and how intriguing. Like a puzzle.

He’d have to find out what precisely she had meant to say… but not now. Now, he’d enjoy this wonderful, large, crisp and fresh bed, the quiet and peaceful room, and the fact that Camille was only a few metres away from him – okay, there was a wall between them, but who cared…

He hoped this night would not bring any nightmares, shivers or other disruptive experiences… They both had had enough of all that during the past three nights. Although it had felt good that she had been there for him in those situations – he didn’t want any more trouble and misery. But today had overall been good, and he was confident that the only way was up…

***************

The night went by without any interruptions, and both Camille and Richard felt a lot better on the next morning. They had breakfast together; later on, Richard sat down in the living room to read a little while Camille caught up on housework, talked to Dwayne, her mother and the Commissioner. After lunch, Richard went to take a nap. Just when he had woken up again, the doorbell rang, and Dr Paulette showed up to see how the patient was doing.

She was pleased with Richard’s progress and praised Camille’s nursing qualities. When she got to the point of making a prognosis for the next few days, she said “Well, I have written you a sick certificate until the end of the week, and you’re going to stay away from work until then. I don’t expect another major relapse over the next few days, but it seems to me that you need a little more time to recover fully from the fever. It’s pointless to go back to work when you’re not completely fit. I know your feet are getting itchy as soon as you begin to feel better, but really, you’ve got to take it slow. Considering that Camille has done such a great job in looking after you, and considering the fact that in your current condition staying at your shack is a lot less convenient than staying here – and provided that Camille has no objections (Camille shook her head at this point) – I think it would be best if you stayed here for a few more days before you move back to your beach house.”

Richard tried to look like he didn’t care one way or another, but it was obvious that he was relieved. Dr Paulette suppressed a smile – she had always known that the buttoned-up Inspector had a very soft spot for Camille… ever since she had seen him during his first bout of fever and he had kept murmuring “Camille… I want Camille… tell her I need her here…” it had been clear as crystal to her that he wasn’t completely indifferent towards his Detective Sergeant. And considering how adamant Camille had been about nursing Richard, it seemed that the feeling was mutual.

Much to Richard’s surprise, the visit didn’t end here. She continued “And now, Inspector – on to a few helpful hints and tips for the future… As this wasn’t your first bout of fever and I know from your team that you have had spells of dizziness on and off over time, plus you have fainted every once in a while… I think you should reconsider a few things about your lifestyle.”

Camille got up to leave the room, but Dr Paulette stopped her and said “No, no – you should hear this, too – unless the Inspector is absolutely against it.” Richard knew very well that if he objected to Camille’s presence, Dr Paulette would tell her everything later on, anyway, and he also knew that given Camille’s efforts to make him feel better it would be downright rude to make her leave. Surprisingly enough, he didn’t mind that she stayed – so he said quickly “Oh no, it’s okay, there’s no reason for her not to hear what you’ve got to say, unless it’s something – er… you know…”

Dr Paulette said reassuringly “No, it’s nothing compromising… just a few general hints. I know it’s hard to establish new habits, but really… it would be a good idea if you had a closer look at your wardrobe and got more lightweight clothes. I’m not suggesting you should walk around in Hawaii shirts and shorts as that’s clearly not your style, but surely you can switch to something lighter than woollen suits and long sleeved dress shirts – and still look respectable. I know that not everyone is cut out for the tropical climate over here, but you don’t have to make your suffering any harder than necessary. So, my advice to you is – see to it that you dress lighter, drink lots of water and avoid direct sunshine. Yes, I know – the last one is hard, and I’m sure you already do your best in that respect. But you might want to consider wearing a hat when you’re outside – again, I know, that might be hard, and you might be afraid of looking ridiculous, but believe me, wearing a hat in the Caribbean is a lot more practical than wearing a woollen suit! I’m sure you can find something you like, and at least the hat makes sense in this climate – the suit, however… not so much.”

Richard was not so sure that she was right in regard to finding a hat that he’d like – but she had a point with the lightweight clothes. He remembered how much cooler he had felt with the short sleeved shirts and slacks that he had worn for a while when his luggage had got lost and he had had to buy new clothes. Out of habit, however, he had switched back to his usual attire – he had felt ‘safer’ and ‘less vulnerable’ in it, for whatever reason.

“Well… you may have a point there…” he conceded reluctantly. He didn’t dare to look in Camille’s direction – he could just imagine her triumphant smile. She had told him the same repeatedly over the past two years… and now he even got the same piece of advice from a doctor…

Dr Paulette smiled encouragingly and said “Of course, these are only recommendations, nothing I could ‘prescribe’. But seriously, Inspector – it’s pointless to suffer more than necessary. You should take better care of yourself. I know very well that this fever is viral, so it’s not directly connected to your lifestyle, but in my experience people who relax and loosen up a bit more generally have an easier life. It’s a matter of making little adjustments here and there, not a huge threatening change that seems impossible to accomplish. Think about it, and I’m sure you’ll see that you’ll benefit from my suggestions. And…” – she glanced over to Camille – “I’m sure that if you need assistance with shopping, you won’t have to look very far…”

Camille smiled smugly, and Richard was dead embarrassed. Dr Paulette pretended not to notice either, but she stifled a grin. These two were just too funny. She had bumped into Dwayne on Friday when he had been on his usual market patrol – without Fidel because someone had to stay at the station – who had told her about his grocery shopping and Camille’s efforts to make everything as comfortable as possible for the Chief. He had grinned when he had described how the two senior officers behaved around one another sometimes - “I’m sure they like each other. They just don’t want to admit it… It’s like they’re sneaking around one another, each of them trying to provoke the other to say it first… It can be very entertaining!”

It wasn’t difficult to believe this, Dr Paulette thought. As she finally got up from her chair, she nodded at both of them and said gravely “So, if nothing major happens, Inspector, you can go back to work next Monday. I’d advise you to stay around here for the next few days – until you feel strong enough to return to your own place. I’d like to see you at the surgery some time next week; please call for an appointment, or just come to the open surgery…”

Camille showed her out, and Richard remained where he was, dumbfounded. This hadn’t quite gone the way he had expected. Well, at least he wouldn’t need further medication, and he could stay at Camille’s house for a little longer. That sounded good to him.

However, the idea of going shopping with her sounded more dreadful than exciting to him – maybe he’d just return to the shops that the Commissioner had recommended and get a few more things… But now that Dr Paulette had mentioned it, Camille wouldn’t leave him alone regarding his clothes any more, so he could count on her insisting she’d take him shopping some time.

When Camille returned, she said “Well, this didn’t sound too bad, did it… It’s good to know that you’re over the worst part of this. Since you’ll be staying here for a few more days while I’ll be at work, I suppose I’ll show you a few details about the kitchen, the TV channels and other stuff so you can do things around here instead of feeling confined to the bedroom…”

******************

Richard had to admit to himself that it was less fun to stay at Camille’s house when she wasn’t around. Even if she was not constantly sitting with him, but rummaging around in another room – it made a huge difference whether or not she was around at all.

Actually, he was surprised at how easy it was to get along with Camille. She wasn’t trying to provoke him or make him look silly – no, she was merry, fun and accommodating towards his wishes. Every once in a while, she teased him – but more often than not, their conversations were easy, amicable and affable.

She had shown him where he could find the English-speaking channels on her TV plus how the DVD player worked, she had given him a brief introduction into all relevant kitchen gadgets he might like to use – like an electrical citrus juicer, a mixer and a blender -, she had pointed out a few books on her shelves that he might like… So he had spent the time while she was at work on enjoying a couple of programmes on TV – with the time difference, that meant he got to see British evening shows in the afternoon and afternoon programmes in the morning -, pulling out and browsing several books he hadn’t expected to find on her shelves (he didn’t look at the French ones, but she had quite a few English books, too – and much to his surprise, there were all kinds of genres, from sappy romance over crime novels to classics), and – out of pure boredom - trying a variety of smoothies with different ingredients. Some were okay – others… not so much. He replicated the good ones for Camille in the evenings, and much to his surprise she even put down the recipes of some of the smoothies in a notebook so she could make them again some time and maybe develop them further together with Catherine who always was grateful for good non-alcoholic cocktail recipes. “You’ve got to offer some variety” was her motto, and Camille was eager to help where she could.

Between 1 and 1.30 p.m., Camille usually came round for lunch. Richard had been worried that she might have to rush back and forth because she couldn’t take one of the police vehicles for her lunch break (so she wouldn’t be able to spend much time with him, as he had secretly feared), but she had just laughed and said “Don’t worry, that’s no problem…” – and when he had seen her coming home on the first day, he had understood: She had purchased a scooter a while ago so she didn’t have to walk everywhere when she couldn’t have the Rover or the motorbike for some reason.

“I used to have a Vespa in Paris,” she explained when he asked. “I loved it, and when I returned here, I was determined to get one again… so here she is! She’s second hand, but in prime condition!” He realised that he had never asked how she got around on the island. She usually parked the Vespa at her mother’s bar when she came to work, so it wasn’t out on the street – and Richard just hadn’t noticed yet.

They had their lunch together – usually a sandwich -, Camille told him about things at the station, shared anecdotes and stories that Fidel and Dwayne had come up with… and then she zoomed off again. In the evenings, they cooked together – or rather, Camille did the cooking while he did the chopping. Later, they watched some TV or a film, or they talked a little before they finally retired.

So, the days went by, and the weekend approached…

****************

Camille looked at the calendar and sighed… usually, she looked forward to the weekend, but it was different this time. She wasn’t entirely sure how long Richard would stay at her place, but one thing was sure – he’d be gone soon. She realised that she had got used to having him around. The first three days (and nights) had been exhausting, but at the same time, they had brought some valuable insights that she wouldn’t want to miss.

Sure, he sometimes was childish, annoying and pedantic. And they still bickered. That hadn’t changed. But she had also seen a different side – or rather, she had seen more of it. He had allowed her to take glimpses of his vulnerable side every once in a while already before, but the extended period of time he had spent at her house had given her a much better idea of his complex character.

She had got used to him helping her in the kitchen, to him sitting next to her on the sofa in the evenings, and – her personal favourite – to their nightly conversations before going to bed. It had become a routine for her to have a mug of tea with him before bedtime – she tidied up, changed into her nightie and made tea while he changed into his pyjamas and waited for her to bring the tea into the bedroom. Then she sat down in the armchair while he had his tea in bed.

Camille had to admit that it sounded bizarre, but it was strangely intimate to sit together like that, let the day pass by in review and talk about this and that. He had opened up a little about the years in boarding school, his police training and his travels, and Camille had talked about her time in the convent school, Paris, and the return to the Caribbean.

Every once in a while, she found herself remembering the moments during the first nights when he had been so helpless – when she had held him after his nightmare, when she had washed him, when she had snuggled up to him to keep him warm… and much to her confusion, she was torn between never wanting him to find out and absolutely wanting him to know.

With a sinking feeling, she realised that she had really, definitely and absolutely fallen for him. If she had had any doubts about that before she had taken him into her house – now she knew for sure.

But how did he feel about her? She couldn’t figure it out… He seemed to enjoy staying with her, but what did she really know?

In a few days, their idyllic togetherness would come to an end – and who knew how things would develop afterwards? Well, all she could do was wait and see – and try to give him a nudge here and there…


	10. Bonds and Weaves

It was Sunday evening, and Richard sat alone on the veranda of his beach shack. Morosely, he stared into his half-empty teamug. He felt a little lost. His books didn’t appeal to him. Earlier, he had tried to watch the Antiques Road Show on TV – due to the time difference, it was on in the afternoon over here. But he couldn’t get into it. Even Fiona Bruce couldn’t cheer him up…

He had been pleased to see his little lizard, but unfortunately, Harry had taken to sitting in the entrance way and watching him with his unblinking eyes – Richard couldn’t quite decide whether Harry was sulking or simply disapproving of his gloominess. Either way… it made him feel slightly uncomfortable.

He glanced at his watch. Six hours. He had been here for six hours, and it felt like an eternity. Reluctantly he conceded that he missed Camille.

Obviously, he suffered from Stockholm syndrome. It couldn’t be anything else, he mused. Well, admittedly, Camille hadn’t held him hostage, and admittedly, he hadn’t been in any serious danger whatsoever… but the emotional bond that had developed between them definitely fell into the definition of Stockholm syndrome…

Or perhaps it was more what other psychologists described as “enchantment” – the fascination, admiration and devotion that could be observed in patients being nursed in sickbays and hospitals towards their nurses and doctors… oftentimes due to lack of interaction with the outside world and extreme gratitude. A certain glorification often was the consequence of this restriction…

Whatever it was – it was disconcerting. He had been aware of developing undeniably unprofessional feelings towards Camille already before he had fallen ill, but the intensity of his feelings had multiplied in the meantime, and it scared him a little.

The question now was… would he get disenchanted now that he was in his own house again, left to his own devices and seeing Camille only for work? Or would the magic spell that she had cast on him be of the lasting kind?

Reluctantly he admitted to himself that he didn’t want things to change to ‘normal’ again between them. He didn’t want to go back to the usual routine. He didn’t want the magic spell to end. Scary as it might appear… he wanted more than a lukewarm friendship between co-workers.

But maybe that was all he could have…

After all, he had no idea about how deep Camille’s feelings were going. He knew that she had felt comfortable with him, and she had seemed to like having him around. She had even said so.

Why exactly she had taken him into her house at all still wasn’t clear to him – had she felt that it was her duty? No, surely not. Had she pitied him? Not a very appealing thought. Maybe she did like him after all. But how was he supposed to know? He didn’t have much experience in this particular department of life…

Well, he’d see how she’d behave when they saw each other at work tomorrow…

His thoughts wandered back to their last evening at her house… less than 24 hours ago, but it seemed like a lifetime already.

Since she hadn’t said a word about when she’d expect him to leave, he had started to gather his belongings and pile them up neatly on the chest of drawers in the bedroom on Friday afternoon – he simply had assumed that she’d want to have the weekend to herself. So when Camille had returned from work, he had been waiting for her, wearing his street clothes – slacks and a short-sleeved shirt that he had found in the drawer that he had been ‘assigned’ by Camille. She had seemed surprised when she had come home and found him in the bedroom, sitting in the armchair with a book, obviously waiting for her to say something.

Then she had understood, and the happy look on her face had disappeared. “You’re ready to leave?” she had asked, and he had wondered if he was just imagining the sadness and concern in her voice… He had shrugged and replied “Well, yes and no… really, I’m not sure… you didn’t say anything, but I figured you might want the weekend for – er – getting some rest, and so…”

Instantly, she had responded “But – I mean… well… Fidel will bring the Rover on Sunday, and I thought you’ll return to your shack in the early afternoon so you can get settled again before going to work, but if you’d rather go now… I mean… of course, we can get a cab for you…”

A little confused, he had declined her offer and said “Um… no, no… it’s okay… I just wasn’t sure, so… Sunday definitely is early enough, I mean… it’s not like anybody is waiting for me, and – er… if you’re sure you can bear me for another day…”

Her face had lit up – or so it had seemed to him – and she had laughed and said cheerfully “Oh, Richard – I wouldn’t have offered it if… I mean, you’re very welcome to stay until Sunday!”

So, he had happily closed his book and packed his things away again, and they had had their usual routine – it was unbelievable how quickly they had fallen into some sort of rhythm together… They had cooked dinner, they had sat in the living room together and talked a little, and they had had their usual mug of tea and evening chat around bedtime.

He had been so happy about the reprieve when he had cuddled into the pillows – he’d have another full day with her before he’d have to go back to his shack! And she wouldn’t have to work on Saturday, plus he had been feeling a lot fitter over the past few days, so he hadn’t been hanging around at her house like an invalid any more…

Camille had gone grocery shopping early on Saturday, and she had come home with croissants and brioches – Richard had been a little suspicious about the latter, but then had ended up eating several ones! Amazing how he had learnt to appreciate French food recently… well, at least some of it…

Later on he had helped her with a few household chores, and they had sat outside in the garden for a while – both had stayed in the shade - Richard on a garden chair and Camille on a lounger. She had worn a bikini top and shorts – and Richard had surreptitiously looked at her in admiration from time to time while he pretended to be reading.

Dinner had been a joint venture again, and then they had watched a DVD together – Camille had insisted that he just had to see “French Kiss” – a film that she thought was hilarious, though full of stereotypes, as she admitted, but at least it showed how beautiful France was… Her other suggestion had been “Four Weddings and a Funeral”, but Richard already knew that film, and the thought of sitting through the somewhat indecent scenes with Camille had made him cringe inwardly. No, then he’d rather watch “French Kiss” with her – despite the somewhat dubious film title - that surely couldn’t be quite as embarrassing.

Much to his surprise he had rather enjoyed the film, although he had kept going on about one of the main characters being a criminal while the other one was a neurotic nutcase and clearly a case for the loony-bin with all her habits, allergies and what-not. Of course, he had felt provoked to point out the occasional inconsistency, too. Not to mention that he had also been feeling extremely uncomfortable during a few scenes that openly referred to sex – either by wordplays, puns or actions -, and Camille had chided him for being nitpicky and laughed at him for being a prude, and they had ended up bickering and teasing each other. It had been fun… yes, he had enjoyed that… much to his surprise.

Then, it had been time for their tea routine – and Richard had realised that it would be the last time (ever?) that they’d have this ritual together. He had looked at Camille in her Charlie Brown nightie and wished he could stay with her forever. He had actually wished he could do more than just ‘stay’ with her, and what had come to his mind had clearly been indecent…

When he had realised this, he had been shocked by his thoughts and feelings, and for a moment, he hadn’t been able to meet her eyes…

Their conversation had faltered and come to a standstill eventually. Camille had sighed. Then she had said “You know, as unlikely as it sounds, I’m going to miss having you around. I had expected this to be much more difficult… And the first few nights have indeed been difficult, but once you’ve been doing better, it’s actually been… a lot of fun to have you here…”

He hadn’t known what to respond. He had been too confused. She had got up, collected the mugs and wished him good night. In the doorway, she had turned around and smiled at him. Her eyes had been bright and shiny… and she had never been more beautiful.

They both had been a bit uneasy on Sunday, although they had tried to hide it, and when Fidel had come to pick him up in the early afternoon, Richard had felt like a lamb being led to the slaughter. He had had to concentrate hard on Fidel’s friendly chattering on the way to his shack…

With a sigh, he finished his tea and went inside, chastising himself for being a silly fool.

Stockholm syndrome, definitely…

He popped a CD into his little stereo set, and after a while, the dramatic melody of Ravel’s “Bolero” washed over him, taking away his crabby thoughts and feelings… for a moment…

**************

Camille looked at the clock on her living room shelf. It was time to go to bed… She’d sleep in her own bed again after over a week, and that definitely would be nice.

She had changed the sheets rightaway after his departure – it had been tempting to leave the old ones on, just for the sake of being surrounded by Richard’s scent, but she realised this was sentimental, silly and stupid… Really, she was behaving like a teenager who refused to wash her hands just because she had touched her first crush’s arm for a moment!

So, she had taken out new bedlinen and made everything fresh and neat… and she was actually looking forward to having her bed to herself again. The bed in the guestroom had been fine, but her own bed still was more comfortable, and she had missed it a little.

She sighed. She wondered what Richard was doing. Well, most likely he’d be in bed by now, wearing one of his cute striped pyjamas…

They had bickered a little about Dr Paulette’s advice to get lighter clothes – Richard had obviously known deep inside that she had a point, but he didn’t really want to invest into piles of clothing. He had claimed that the five short-sleeved shirts that he had were enough, but Camille had scoffed “Don’t be ridiculous – we’ll go and get you at least half a dozen more. You’ll need some variety. And while we’re at it, I know a store on Guadeloupe where you can get shirts, chinos and slacks at a really good price… I’ll take you there, and I promise you, you won’t regret it!”

He had protested, and she had become irritated and said resentfully “Right… if you want to continue melting away in your woollen suits, then so be it… but don’t you think that after all the efforts I have made to help you to get over the fever I have deserved better than this? I’d feel relieved to know that you’re taking better care of yourself… but okay, if you want me to keep worrying over you…”

This strategy had been successful – he had given in, albeit reluctantly… and they had agreed to go shopping together as soon as possible.

At least that was something to look forward to. And she couldn’t help but wonder: Where would they go from here?

She missed him. It had been hard to let him go. It was like an invisible bond had formed between them over the past week, a weave that had held them together. She hoped that this feeling of mutual understanding would survive – if nothing else, then their friendship would be stronger now, and that was at least something to be happy about…

Against all odds, she had hoped he’d make a move on her last night… they had had such a nice day, and they had even watched a romantic comedy together… that should have inspired him, really… And she had tried to be as encouraging as she could without being too straightforward… she had even told him she’d miss him.

But then again, maybe he still hadn’t felt well enough. Or his sense of propriety had got into the way. Or maybe he had not understood the signals she had been sending? She had been a little disappointed that he hadn’t approached her in a more… _romantic_ way, but maybe she had expected more than he had been ready to give at this point.

Really, she shouldn’t be ungrateful… it was wrong to want too much too soon…

At least, it had seemed that he hadn’t really wanted to go. It had been strange – they both had known they’d see each other again on the next day, but still… each of them had obviously felt somewhat uneasy. When he had left, he had looked back at her as she had stood in the entrance of her house, and there had been something undefinable in his eyes…

Oh well. She’d wait and see. This week had been interesting in many ways, and who knew, he might be a bit easier to get along with at work from now on. Now that she knew some of the demons he had to deal with, she’d find it easier to understand him… And it had been amazing how effortlessly he had fit into her daily routines as long as he had been here.

Well, time to call it a night. She changed into her nightie, made herself a mug of tea and sat down in the armchair, thinking of the past evenings and how nice it had been to just sit and chat for a few minutes.

With a sigh, she got up again eventually, went to the bathroom and got ready for bed. Finally, she slipped between the sheets, wondered for the last time how Richard might be feeling tonight, reveled a little in the memories of the past week… and then fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

*******************

Monday came, and Dwayne and Fidel heaved a sigh of relief when they saw their Chief climbing the stairs to the station. They had missed him – even Dwayne, who regularly complained about Richard’s pedantry, had said several times that the station just wasn’t the same without him. And although Camille had done a great job, she had often been a little absent-minded – it had been obvious that she had worried about Richard’s well-being. It was good that the team was complete again!

“Good morning, Dwayne… Fidel…” Richard was determined not to make a big deal out of his return to work, but the two men didn’t give him a chance to play things down – they greeted him warmly, both came to shake his hand, and Fidel said “It’s good to have you back, sir! You look so much better than you did last week – you really scared us with that fever!”

Richard cleared his throat and said – a little flattered because they had obviously missed him – with a slight grin “Well, I didn’t mean to scare you… and you can imagine it wasn’t all that great for me, either…”

He took off his jacket, and Fidel said, approval in his voice “And look at you, sir – short sleeves and no tie – you will feel so much cooler and more comfortable with that!”

Before he could make a reply, a familiar voice from the doorway said “Welcome back, sir – good to see you again,” – and Richard turned around… There she stood, as pretty as always, her head tilted to one side, a smile on her face. Her eyes sparkled with – well, what was it? Joy? Recognition? Appreciation? Whatever it was, it was irresistible, and he beamed back at her for a moment. Then he sobered and tried to get his face under control again.

Camille took a deep breath and said “And how nice to see you in short sleeves – you’ll feel much better that way! I like that colour, too!”

“Do you?” Richard stuttered a little, trying not to sound too pleased.

Dwayne and Fidel exchanged a knowing glance – their senior officers clearly were in it knee-deep… without being aware of it, though. They really needed a bit of a push, as it seemed…

A few minutes before Richard’s arrival, Fidel had told Dwayne how he had picked up Richard at Camille’s place the day before. “You know, it was like they’d have to part and never see each other again – you should have seen their faces! Totally hopeless! I don’t think anything… er… ‘serious’ has happened between them… they would have looked differently at each other… and really, it would have been totally inappropriate in that situation, anyway, but they clearly have feelings for one another. Camille looked sad and forlorn, and he… he was as gloomy as a back yard in the rain during the ride to his beach… He tried to hide it, but he obviously was not so keen on returning to his… how does Camille call it again? Right… his monastic cell!”

Dwayne had chuckled and responded “They are funny. I mean, look at Camille – she’s probably the prettiest woman in the Caribbean, and she could have literally any man – single or attached – if she tried. They’d all come running in a jiffy. And she’s mooning over the Chief who clearly has fallen for her, but is too afraid to show it… and she doesn’t see how he’s watching her every move… All that bickering, all that squabbling… they’re both trying to hide their feelings because they don’t know where it will lead them if they make any confessions…”

Fidel had mused “I guess they both think they have too much to lose. When Juliet and I met we were still rather young and innocent, and we kind of grew up together. But when you fall in love at the Chief’s age, you come with emotional baggage, if you know what I mean, and the older you get the harder it is… you get set in your ways, and you’re afraid of changes and wonder if it’s worth it.”

Dwayne had raised his eyebrows. Fidel had looked at him and said “Yeah, I know… those are sentiments that are completely foreign to you… but then, you’re not looking for a life companion, are you?”

With a shrug and a frown, Dwayne had conceded that he preferred his independence and freedom. “You’re right, I don’t want to be tied down, and the ladies I get involved with know that… I don’t pretend to look for anything permanent, though… What they get is what they see! If they think they can change me, they will notice soon enough that it’s not going to happen.”

Fidel had said “Fair enough, then. But we both know that the Chief and Camille are different in that respect. Mind you. I think they need a kick in the behind – and rather sooner than later."

Dwayne had nodded and said thoughtfully “Let’s watch them for a little while… But knowing the Chief, I think he’ll try and stick his head into the sand, and Camille… well, Camille will get into a snit if nothing happens, and then she’ll get all defiant and pretend it doesn’t matter – and who knows what will come out of that… No, Fidel, we should see to it that they’ll get their act together – and soon!”


	11. Developments

Fortunately, Richard and Camille both were completely oblivious to Fidel’s and Dwayne’s thoughts and their non-verbal communication.

Camille was just happy to see Richard again – although that seemed silly since he had only left her house the day before. She was delighted to notice that he had taken Dr Paulette’s advice to heart: He wore one of his formal suit trousers and had the jacket with him, too, but he had chosen to wear a short-sleeved shirt with it, and the inevitable tie had been left at home. It was strange to see him like that in the official environment of the station, but she was definitely pleased with his appearance…

Richard, on the other hand, was stunned at the effect that Camille’s presence had on him. He knew it was ridiculous – he had just spent over a week in her house, he had only come home yesterday – and still, he had missed her and was over the moon to see her again now.

It really had to be Stockholm syndrome… He’d wait a little and see how things would go – and how his own feelings would develop. Maybe, his confusion would be over soon, and he’d wonder what on earth had fascinated him like that?

Luckily, things at the station were busy for him. He had to look through a couple of things that Camille had left on his desk, unsure about what to do with them, and of course, there were e-mails to reply to, and there were the usual routines that he had to tend to. So, he had things to do and didn’t just sit around, focusing on how he felt. He was surprised when lunchtime arrived – he hadn’t noticed how time had passed. Camille and the boys had taken care of their work, Fidel had been on the phone a couple of times, and around noon, he and Dwayne made ready to leave the station for their regular market patrol.

Camille got up and said - almost apologetically - “I have promised my mother to visit her during lunchtime. I won’t stay for my entire break, though, so would you like me to get anything for you? A sandwich perhaps, or something else?”

He looked up and said “A turkey sandwich, maybe? I’ll also take a banana sandwich, if that’s easier…”

She nodded and said “I’ll see what I can get, and I’ll be back in half an hour…” With that, she left the station, unaware of how his eyes followed her.

*********************

All in all, the first day had gone well, Richard mused as he stood in his kitchenette and prepared the salad he wanted to eat along with his eggs on toast. He hadn’t been overwhelmed with work, but it hadn’t been dull and boring, either. It had done him good to realise how Fidel and Dwayne had been genuinely pleased to see him again…

It had been strange to be in the office again, but also good – Dr Paulette had been right, he had got itchy feet once he had felt better, but by the same token, staying with Camille had surely been more fun than being at work!

He had been tempted to go out for drinks with the team after they had closed down the station, but he hadn’t wanted to overdo it on his first day, so he had invited them all for drinks at Catherine’s bar for the next evening, and they had appeared to be delighted by his invitation. Camille had smiled at him when she had said goodbye, and his knees had turned into jelly. Really, how pathetic… For a moment, he wondered what she was doing at the moment, then he shrugged off the thought and focused on the meal he was going to have.

Right… the salad was ready, so he put two slices of bread into the toaster and began to fry the eggs. When he sat down at his table to have his dinner, he remembered how Camille had brought him food over the first few days, how she had fed him at first and how they had had meals together at her kitchen table later on… It had been nice to have someone to talk to for a change.

He had got used to being on his own over all the years of solitude, but being used to something didn’t necessarily mean that you liked it – he realised this now. When he was finished, he got up to take away the dishes and bring out a bottle of beer. He sat down again and took a look at the science magazine that he had bought during his lunch break.

****************

Fidel picked him up again on the next morning. He and Camille had agreed on taking turns for a while until they felt that Richard was back to normal and didn’t need to take things easy any more. Everyone in the team was aware of Richard’s desire to be independent, though, and of how vehemently he would deny needing any help – so they didn’t bother offering him help, they just were there, and he couldn’t possibly say no any more then.

On the way to the station, Richard tried to make friendly conversation. He had realised how much his team had already done for him, he appreciated the efforts that everyone currently was making, and he didn’t want to appear rude.

So, when Fidel mentioned Rosie’s most recent antics, he asked how the family visit had gone the other day. Fidel smiled and responded happily “Oh, it was fun. Noisy, but fun. And Juliet and I even got the opportunity to go out together one evening, just the two of us. Danielle - Juliet’s sister - offered to babysit Rosie – and of course, having several little ones herself, she’s got lots of experience, and we knew Rosie would be in good hands… So, we went out for dinner together, to a restaurant that we both like, and that was lovely. We also had a bit of a stroll along the beach afterwards – it was fun just to – er – walk without having to take care of a naughty toddler… You know we rarely have a chance to go on a ‘date’ these days… so this felt special…”

A thought crossed Richard’s mind, and he asked – apparently all innocence – a little about what they had eaten and where the restaurant was. Fidel smiled inwardly – he had a hunch why the Chief was asking all these things, but didn’t let it show. He just replied, seemingly unaware of the reason behind Richard’s questions.

During the day, Dwayne and Fidel observed Richard’s and Camille’s interaction – it was a strange mix of ease and self-consciousness on both sides. To everyone who knew them better it was obvious that things had shifted during the week that Richard had spent at her house, and it also was obvious that they didn’t quite know how to handle this and where they were going from here.

Well, time would tell… and after Fidel had given Dwayne a rundown on the conversation in the car, they both were confident that something would happen – hopefully rather sooner than later. The Chief just had to muster up the courage to ask Camille out… that would be the biggest obstacle… and then, of course, it was vital that he didn’t chicken out once Camille gave him a chance…

Unaware of his officers’ secret surveillance, Richard did some research on the internet to find out a little more about the restaurant that Fidel had mentioned. It was a family run place, nothing top notch, but it seemed cosy and quiet – just what he was looking for.

He knew it wouldn’t do to just say “Thank you” to Camille… and it wouldn’t be enough to just buy her a drink, either. She had done so much for him, after all. Dwayne and Fidel were different – they had helped, but Camille had had all the work during his illness – both at the station and at her home - and even if nothing came out of it, he had to make at least an attempt at showing her how grateful he was - and how much she meant to him.

As it was, a sudden insight had hit him right between the eyes last night when he had looked at his reflection in the mirror as he had got ready for bed: sod friendship, and sod Stockholm syndrome… he was _in love_. For the first time in ages! He had almost forgotten how this felt, so he hadn’t understood initially… How utterly stupid of him!

It scared him, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it, but well… there were things you couldn’t run away from. Ignoring it wouldn’t make it go away, and he would hurt Camille just as much as himself if he avoided making a move.

Not that he really knew how to go about – he hadn’t been out with a woman since the stone ages, and his ‘relationships’ had never lasted long enough to be worth the term, anyway. He knew how obsessed he was with planning things and trying to make them go his way, but he also knew that sometimes, things just happened, and you had no influence.

Grimly, he thought of how he had ended up on Saint Marie – he hadn’t planned that, either!

He realised he wasn’t good at sitting back, relaxing and living in the moment. But although it scared him to death, he knew he had to do something about this all – otherwise he’d hate himself forever. He wished he had some sort of idea… Once he’d have a plan, he’d go for it…

Yes, he would.

And maybe, he had a chance, after all, and with a little luck, things wouldn’t end in an epic failure.

As he had lay in his bed the night before and tried to ignore how warm and stuffy it was in his shack, he had replayed the good night scenario of the last evening at her house in his head, and it had suddenly dawned on him that Camille had perhaps given him all sorts of hints – and that he just hadn’t recognised them as hints. Maybe because of lack of experience, maybe because he was simply dense – maybe because of a combination of both… but he hadn’t understood at that time that her wistful remarks about how she would miss him could be… an _invitation_ , for lack of a better word. And he had unwittingly let the chance of a lifetime pass - because he had been too pre-occupied with his own feelings – he had been shocked at how he hadn’t wanted to leave, and the realisation that he wanted to be with her had confused him. What an idiot he was. He wanted to slap himself…

Of course, he wasn’t sure if he had read her behaviour correctly – he might be mistaken altogether. But well… asking her out for dinner would be harmless enough as she had actually deserved a special treat for bearing with him for an extended stretch of time, and one of Fidel’s casual remarks – that Camille had insisted on taking him to her house and gone on about how barbarious and heartless it would be to leave him alone in his shack – had made him think. Fidel had said “You know, sir, Camille was determined to take you in – she didn’t leave any doubt about that. You should have seen the look on her face when she realised how – er – helpless you were.”

For a moment, he had considered waiting until they’d go shopping together on Guadeloupe, as she had promised. But then he had realised that he didn’t really want to wait that long – he had to make a move as long as he still had the nerve to do it.

The restaurant that Fidel had mentioned, ‘Le Rayon Vert’, was outside of Honoré, so they would have to take the Rover. Their menu wasn’t too extensive, but Richard was sure that they would find something to eat – there was seafood available, but also a few traditional meat dishes as well as vegetarian food. Several of the dishes quite appealed to him from the description – and the restaurant had also listed ingredients, there were warnings for people with allergies, and the pictures of the place looked very nice, too.

He didn’t want to take her to some super-posh and expensive place so she’d be embarrassed. Not because she would be overwhelmed - he knew she’d fit in perfectly – more so than him! It wasn’t that he’d mind spending the money, either. No, it was more that he didn’t want her to feel pressurised in any way. He didn’t want her to think he’d take her out to ‘pay’ her – or worse, to make her ‘compensate’ afterwards by showing affection to an extent that she perhaps didn’t feel after all.

No, a nice little restaurant where they’d have a simple, but good meal – that was the right thing.

He sent an e-mail, asking how long in advance he’d have to reserve a table, and the answer came within minutes – if he wanted to book for a weekday, he could do so on the same day, preferably before 12 noon, if it was a weekend – including Friday – he’d have to allow a day at least.

Well, it was Tuesday… he could ask her today… What would she say? He stole a glance in her direction… she was sitting at her desk, her legs stretched and her ankles crossed, in a mint green top and a black skirt… Slightly bemused, he wanted to loosen his tie a little – and then noticed that he didn’t wear one.

Good grief, his brain had really suffered lately, as it seemed!

***************

Camille was a little disappointed that Richard had just invited everyone for drinks, but then again… what had she expected? Well, who knew… Fidel might go home early, Dwayne might wander off to talk to friends or for a dance… perhaps she’d have a few minutes with him alone, and they’d talk… She was well aware of her somewhat ‘adolescent’ behaviour, but couldn’t help herself…

After work, they all went to ‘La Kaz’, and Catherine brought them their drinks. She made a few friendly remarks about Richard being dressed fairly casually and asked him how he was doing. As she put down the teapot and ‘his’ cup in front of him, they exchanged some friendly chit-chat, and Richard even gave her a half smile when she said she had heard that Camille had made him tea all the time and he surely wouldn’t want hers any more now.

Dwayne was curious to see how the Chief would respond to this without putting his foot in – much to his surprise, Richard found a way. He said – in his usual slightly stuffy manner – “Well, Catherine, it’s obvious that Camille has her culinary skills from you… so her tea was just as good as yours, and I couldn’t tell any difference!” Catherine smiled warmly, and Camille’s eyes lit up. More than once, she had heard him praise her mother’s tea – so this was a huge compliment.

The atmosphere was relaxed, Richard even took off his jacket without being reminded to do so, and Fidel complimented him on his choice of shirt. They got into talking about the weather these days, the climate in the UK, dresscodes in general and all sorts of things, until Dwayne mentioned that he had seen a friend at the other side of the bar and got up to greet him. Only ten minutes afterwards, Fidel excused himself and said he’d head home so he’d get to see Rosie before her bedtime, so finally, it was only Camille and Richard at the table. She was playing with the straw of her cocktail, looking intently on the tablecloth.

Richard decided to grab the bull by the horns and said bravely “Camille…” She looked up and met his gaze, inquiringly. That totally unhinged him, and he fell silent again. “Yes?” she asked softly after a while. He woke up from his daze and blushed as he stuttered “Um… Camille… I’ve been meaning to ask… you’ve been so good to me last week… so I was wondering if there’s anything I could do to make up for all the trouble – I mean if … er… would you perhaps… like to… er… go out for dinner with me some time?”

She tilted her head to one side. “You mean… just you and me?” she asked with a smile. Nervously, he said “Well… yes…” She still smiled, and before he could stop himself, he blurted out “… but if you’d rather not, I mean… maybe you have better things to do, and you don’t really want to be seen with me, anyway…”

Camille couldn’t help but giggle, but then she pulled herself together. Her gaze was soft and her voice was gentle as she said “Don’t be an idiot, Richard. Why wouldn’t I want to be seen with you? People see me with you all the time, and why would I care, anyway! The answer is yes, I’d very much like to go out for dinner with you some time.”

“Would you?” He beamed at her, then asked eagerly “Would Friday be okay for you?” She nodded and said “Yes, sure. Pick me up at 7, and we’ll take it from there…”

When he walked home 20 minutes later, there was a certain spring in his step. She hadn’t tried to string him along, she had said yes – and he was determined to make the most of it. Right after his arrival at home, he e-mailed the restaurant again and asked for a table at 7.30 on Friday evening. The confirmation message came reassuringly quickly, much to his relief.

He was amazed that he had actually done it and asked her out… and that she had accepted. Despite the closeness that he had felt to her during his stay at her house, despite all the feelings, wishes and dreams he had entertained recently – it had taken him quite some courage to ask her. Well, whatever, now he was halfway there… hopefully, the next few days wouldn’t bring any discord, and they’d have a good time together on Friday…


	12. Taking the Plunge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, folks - enjoy :-)

“You mean they’ll be going out on a date?” Fidel asked eagerly.

Dwayne nodded and said “Definitely. I saw them from the other end of the bar, and the Chief was all flustered, and you know how edgy his movements get when he’s nervous. I think he probably blushed, and he definitely gave her one of those worshipping glances. Camille didn’t say anything at first, but she kept playing with her glass or something, so I don’t think she even noticed that corny mooncalf look. Then, she looked up, replied, and they both beamed like crazy. So, what do you think, doesn’t that sound promising?”

Fidel grinned from one ear to the other and said “It does, Dwayne, it does. Let’s see what comes out of it. I bet they’ll go on the weekend. I mean, the Chief won’t take the risk to go on a weekday – if things go wrong, he’d have to face Camille the next day, and I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t want that… so my guess is Friday or Saturday. Friday is more likely because restaurants are fuller on Saturdays, and he’ll want to avoid the masses…”

“So you recommended a particular place?” Dwayne wanted to know.

“Yes, I did…” Fidel said. “I’m sure that’s where he’ll take her – I saw him researching it on the net later on when he thought nobody was looking. I told him it’s a place that both Juliet and I like. What I didn’t tell him is that I proposed to Juliet on the beach there one evening…”

“Oh, wow…” Dwayne said thoughtfully, then added “What’s so funny?” as he saw Fidel’s wide smile.

“Nothing. I just think that Juliet told Camille some time…”

Dwayne sniggered and said “Let’s just hope that she won’t expect too much! The Chief won’t go that far!”

***********

The next few days were a bit trying for Camille and Richard. They both were nervous, although they tried not to show it. Work was busy, but not overly so, so there were quiet phases in between when both of them had time to wonder how their date might turn out and where it would lead them.

Camille had been over the moon when he had asked her out. She had wanted to dance with excitement. He was such a reserved person – it really had to mean _something_ if he jumped over his shadow like that.

Then the doubts had come – what if he only had a bad conscience and thought he had to ask her out to ‘compensate’ for all the trouble she had gone to while having him at her house? What if she had only imagined the closeness, the better understanding, the mutual attraction?

However… there was only one way to find out, and that would be going out with him and seeing how the evening would go… and encouraging him by all means.

Richard, by the same token, was beginning to lose courage. Little by little, he talked himself into a spiral of worries and anxiety. He started to doubt his earlier insights, questioned his observations and perceptions, and wondered if he had done the right thing. By the end of the work week, he had turned into a bundle of anguish. However, he knew that there was only one way out – he had to take the risk of failure, and he couldn’t run away any more now.

Camille noticed his edginess, but didn’t quite know how to help him out of it without sounding overbearing, condescending or flippant. Plus, she was nervous herself. When Friday afternoon arrived and it was time to close down the station, she lingered on for a little longer after Fidel and Dwayne had left, carefully finishing the paperwork she was doing and tidying her desk.

Richard hid behind his computer, watching her from the corner of his eye. Maybe she was making ready to let him down. Surely she had waited for Fidel and Dwayne to leave so she could tell him in private that she had changed her mind and didn’t want to go out with him after all.

He tried to appear busy and in control… She shouldn’t see his tenseness…

But of course, she did… She picked up her bag and went over to his desk where he sat hunched behind the screen. He looked up, straight into her eyes, bracing himself for the inevitable - and she said “I’ll go now, Richard. I’m really looking forward to tonight, you know…”

Her voice was happy, but didn’t sound inappropriately cheerful – she tried to make him understand that she was excited, but that her expectations weren’t over-the-top. She didn’t want him to think she expected him to come up with a super-classy event.

Her remark had the desired effect – he relaxed a little and said “Are you? That’s good – I hope you won’t be… um… disappointed…”

She smiled and replied “I doubt that. I’ll see you at 7 then…”

With that, she left the station, leaving him behind with a feeling of relief, mixed with excitement and nervousness. She had not changed her mind, and she was even looking forward to it…

Well, he’d better get out of here then and make himself more presentable.

****************

Camille had agonised over what to wear – she wanted to be pretty for Richard, but she didn’t want to look too flashy or overdressed – that would only intimidate him. She wanted him to feel comfortable. Also, although she didn’t know where he’d take her, she sensed that it wouldn’t be an upscale, posh place. Richard didn’t like restaurants that were too big and impersonal. While it was important to him that a place had a certain standard, he didn’t really want to end up in a maze of tables, with hoity-toity waiters and snobbish people around him. Sadly, quite a few of the resorts had restaurants like that – they had brilliant food, but the atmosphere was a little unpleasant and stuffy because everything was ‘over-professionalised’ and there was no personal touch.

So, she figured she’d best wear something that wasn’t too elegant – but still fancy enough for a date – and she settled for a knee-length cobalt blue dress with a floating full skirt. Richard came to pick her up punctually, and when she saw the way he looked at her she knew she had made a good choice. He was obviously stunned and scrambled for words for a moment – well, that in itself wasn’t unusual, but it was the look in his eyes that gave him away.

He had changed into another shirt – long sleeved this time, but he had rolled up the sleeves so he didn’t look too formal. A grey jumper – that he wouldn’t need, but that gave him a casual look – was draped over his shoulders. There was no tie, fortunately.

On the way to the restaurant, they made conversation – they both were still a little nervous. When they arrived at “Le Rayon Vert”, Camille looked around appreciatevely – this seemed like a really nice place. The name sounded familiar, but she had never been here… where had she heard about this restaurant before? Oh right… Juliet had mentioned it some time… Wasn’t it her and Fidel’s favourite?

She smiled approvingly. “Wow, Richard – this looks like a fantastic place! Have you been here before?”

“No, I haven’t,” he admitted, “but I’ve heard good things about it, so I thought we’d check it out…”

*********************

“Le Rayon Vert” did not disappoint. The food was delicious, the wine was very good, and the service was excellent.

Richard congratulated himself – this was going so much better than any other _rendez-vous_ he had ever had. Camille obviously liked the place, and everything was just as nice as he had hoped it would be. After their initial nervousness had worn off a little and they had forgotten that they were out on what could be classified as a ‘date’, they got into a conversation about all sorts of things, and it felt like they were sitting in Camille’s living room, talking over a drink…

Every once in a while, though, there were little interruptions in the conversation, and Richard’s hand inched over to Camille’s side of the table. At the same time, Camille’s hand made hardly noticeable movements in his direction – but neither of them dared make the last move. Little by little, the tension between them grew, and by the time they had dessert, Richard seriously was in a fluster. He was afraid Camille would notice and tease him – and he’d get all upset and defensive and spoil it all.

In all fairness, however, Camille was too preoccupied with her own confusion. She had a hard time understanding the whole thing… this was Richard, her boss of over two years, the most annoying man on the island… she had known him for quite some time now, she was well aware of his shortcomings, and she had just spent more than a week in his company while he had been horribly ill – there was hardly anything romantic about that.

Yet, they were here, in this restaurant, on some sort of ‘date’ – actually, it surely wasn’t more than a ‘thank you for taking care of me during my illness’ dinner, but it felt like a date, anyway… It really shouldn’t matter so much to her… she wasn’t a schoolgirl any more, she was over 30, and she had already had quite a few dates in her life.

But this was different, and no matter how much she tried to fight it – she had butterflies in her stomach when he smiled at her, and her feelings were contradictory: on one hand, she felt she could sit and talk to him forever and didn’t really want the evening to end, but on the other hand, she wanted him to finally make that darn move so she could gracefully ‘give in’… and bring the evening to a satisfactory ending…

She felt her face flush when she got aware of her thoughts and hoped he hadn’t noticed anything. She needn’t have worried, though – he was obviously too busy trying to appear calm and composed. It got later and later, and eventually, neither of them could ignore the very discreet attempts of the waiter to make them vacate the table, so Camille went to the restroom while Richard settled the bill.

A look into the mirror showed her that she still looked bright and fresh – and she was determined not to let Richard off the hook this time. He had not understood her hints on that last evening in her house – she would not give him any chance to misunderstand her this time.

On the way back to Camille’s place, Richard got more and more quiet. He was unsure about what would be next. This had been a fantastic evening, and he didn’t want it to end. By the same token… there was a particular ending that he wouldn’t mind at all… But given the fact that he was anything but a womaniser, he had no idea of how to proceed from here – he feared that anything he’d say or do would only come across as clumsy and awkward, and he’d ruin everything.

As they reached her house and parked under the street light, Richard shut off the engine – not quite sure what to say or do now. Camille turned to him. He saw her smile, and she said, with a seemingly light-hearted voice “Well, that was a really enjoyable evening, Richard…” Then she paused and asked, with a slightly coquettish undertone “Would you mind walking me to the door?”

What could he do but follow her request?

When she unlocked the entrance door, she turned around, looking at him from beneath her lashes, and asked “Care to come in for a drink? Tea, maybe?”

He hesitated for a moment and then said haltingly “I – I don’t think that’s – er – such a good idea… I mean… I suppose I’d better say good night now…”

For an instant, Camille was hurt. Then she heard the despair in his voice and realised he was scared. His whole body seemed tense, and he just couldn’t relax or move in any way. She knew she couldn’t force him – he would have to come to her of his own accord.

So, trying to stifle the disappointment, she simply said “Well, if that’s what you want…” He nodded mutely, and she leant forward to kiss him on the cheek, whispering very softly “Good night, Richard, and thank you for the nice evening…” – and before he knew it, she was gone, and he looked at the closed entrance door.

In a daze he turned around and walked back to the Rover that was waiting for him under the street light. He climbed into the car and sat there in the darkness for a moment before turning his head and looking back at the house. The light had gone on in the kitchen… he couldn’t see any details, but he imagined her standing at the sink, putting water in the kettle, taking out a mug and a teabag…

**************

Camille heaved a big sigh and tried to hold back the tears. It had been such a wonderful evening… and now it had ended like this. He simply wasn’t ready yet… and she wondered if he ever was going to be ready. He was a prisoner of his fear – she knew that he had wanted to be with her, but he just couldn’t make the decisive final step. She went into the kitchen and dumped her bag on the table before she switched on the light and took out a mug and a teabag…

But what was that? Her phone was buzzing insistently. She took it out of her handbag – there was a text… “Pls open yr door?” A smile grew on her face - she hurried into the corridor and opened the entrance door.

There was Richard, apprehension and a hint of fear in his eyes… He looked at her and asked shyly “Is it too late to change my mind?”

Instead of an answer, Camille just took his hand and pulled him inside, shutting the door with a bang and leaning on it so there was no way he could back out any more. For a moment, they smiled at one another – nervously, wordlessly, trying to gauge each other’s resolve – then Richard came closer, lifting his free hand – she was still holding on to his other hand – and cupping her face. “Camille…” he whispered. There was a certain encouraging gleam in her eyes…

And then he kissed her. Softly at first, then more and more passionately. Camille’s grip around his hand loosened, and she wrapped her arms around him. Her response to his kiss was reassuringly enthusiastic – not only were her lips soft and pliable under his, actually she kissed him back with much feeling, her hands roamed over his back, pulled out his shirt and slipped under the garment to feel his bare skin… They waltzed through the corridor, away from the door, in a tight embrace.

As they broke for air, she began to unbutton his shirt, her hands wandered down to his belt, pausing there for a moment before her fingers slipped beneath the waistband… - his eyes widened as he felt his body’s unexpectedly strong reaction to her touch - and slowly, she moved backwards, hands firmly gripping his trousers’ waistband now, further into the corridor… in direction of the bedroom.

Her eyes sparkled, and there was an enticing smile on her lips. “If you think I’ll let you get away once again, Richard, you’re sorely mistaken…” she whispered in response to his slightly anxious glance. Happily, she felt his arms coming around her body again, and he replied in a low voice that sent shivers down her spine “What makes you think I’ll change my mind again now that I’m here? I’m not that fickle…”

And with that, he kissed her again… and again.

**************

Some time later, Richard woke up from a noise – the clinking of dishes somewhere in the distance. He opened his eyes just when the door opened, and Camille – now in a nightie sporting a picture of Peppermint Patty – came in, carrying two mugs of tea. She sat on the bedside, putting both mugs on the nightstand, and bent down to kiss Richard. With a delighted shiver, she felt how his hands came to her sides to caress her, deftly slipped under her rucked up nightie and then pulled her closer so she fell on him. They both laughed when they broke for air, and he would have taken further action immediately if she hadn’t insisted on them drinking their tea first.

“Sod the tea,” he said, nuzzling her neck.

“Richard!” She sounded shocked.

He reconsidered and said “A shortbread finger, maybe…”, taking one from the little plate and holding it out to her. She took a bite, and what seemed like a million of crumbs fell on his chest. “Yikes”, he went and sat bolt upright, sweeping the crumbs off again. Camille laughed so hard at his panicky movements that the tears began to fall, and he pulled her towards him again to silence her with a kiss.

“You know,” she said a few minutes later when she lay comfortably snuggled up to him, “I thought you were going to chicken out again… what made you reconsider?”

He was silent for a moment, then he said – idly twiddling a strand of her hair – “I think I realised that it was now or never… I had blown it before, if I blew it again, you wouldn’t give me another chance… and I knew that all I really want is being with you…”

“Oh? So you did notice that I tried to encourage you last weekend?” she asked, astonishment in her voice.

“Yeah… well, not when you did. Only when I thought about it later on,” he admitted reluctantly. “I was too caught up in how I didn’t want to leave to notice that you didn’t want me to go… And I wasn’t sure why you had taken me to your house in the first place. I thought it had perhaps been pity because of my illness, and I didn’t want pity… oh, I guess I just didn’t know what I felt and what you expected – or whatever…”

Camille smiled and said softly “Yes, whatever… the main thing is that you did come back…” She shifted a little so she could kiss him and then added “And guess what, it was fine to have you here while you were ill, but it’s much better now that you are healthy…”

She giggled, and he arched his eyebrows inquiringly. For a moment, she toyed with the idea of telling him about the night she had spent in this bed with him, warming him with her body and trying to fight off the shivers. But then she decided the time wasn’t right for this confession – yet. She’d tell him some time later.

So, now she said “Oh, you know, I’m glad this bed is finally being put to good use… When I moved to this house, I made a conscious decision to have the TV and a stereo in the living room only and absolutely no technology in here. I decided that this room would only be used for two purposes… sleeping and making love… when the latter never happened, I compromised and decided reading is okay, too. But to be honest… as much as I enjoy reading, I actually prefer the other two activities… although… I fancy particularly one of them at the moment… and to give you a hint… it’s not sleeping that I’m talking about. So, if you think you’re up to it…”

Her hand wandered over his body, stroking and caressing him, and he pulled her towards him and whispered “I think that sounds like a brilliant idea… and yes, I’m very much up to it… as you know all too well already…”

She wanted to answer, but his kiss silenced her… for a long, long time she didn’t manage to say anything coherent.

But if she was honest – she didn’t mind one bit.

And the tea was forgotten…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you had fun reading this story - it certainly was fun to write it! I'll focus on finishing my other story now and will take a little break from writing after that. So, stay tuned - there'll be regular updates for the other story over the next weeks.


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